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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27626678">By The Stars</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TophsLegacy/pseuds/TophsLegacy'>TophsLegacy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>RWBY</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bumbleby Big Bang (RWBY), F/F, Gay Panic Hiking, Hiking, Hurt/Comfort, Summer Rose is Yang's mom and I'm so ready to die on that hill that I wrote a whole fic about it, like a lot of it, the fact that that's a tag at all is a sign</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:06:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>35,427</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27626678</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TophsLegacy/pseuds/TophsLegacy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone’s looking for something on the Remnant Cross-Continental Trail. Hiking from one end of Sanus to the other is no small feat. Most seek adventure, some go looking for themselves. Blake knows she’s looking for the latter, while Yang has convinced herself adventure is all she’s after. Over what feels like the longest and shortest months of their lives they confront past demons and admit to harsh truths. They start to find themselves in the trail and in each other along the way.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>193</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bumbleby Big Bang 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello and welcome to my addition the the 2020 Bumbleby Big Bang. Please check out my lovely partner's art piece for this fic, which can be found here <a>[x]</a></p><p>And the playlist for this fic can be found here <a>[x]</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The weight of sleep sits heavy in Yang’s limbs, she squints over the edge of her pillow, looking for the source of the violent trill assaulting her eardrums. The cheap sheets crinkle under her as she snatches her phone off the motel nightstand, nearly punching the flimsy alarm clock off the edge in the process.</p><p>Letting her body sink back into the mattress she swipes a lazy finger across her screen. Before she can say a word, she winces back from the loud, shrill screech that comes from the other end of the line. </p><p>“Yaaaaaang!!”</p><p>Ruby giggles and Yang is taken back ten years, Christmas morning at age twelve. She can almost feel the weight of her sister bouncing up and down on the end of the bed with unbridled enthusiasm, the faint smell of fresh baked bread and ham lingering at the edge of her sleep-addled mind. She shakes her head to try and push the memory away. </p><p>She lets out a long sigh, hoping sleep isn’t too apparent in her voice, “Morning, Rubes.” </p><p>“Oh, you really did need this wake up call, didn’t you?” Busted. <br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Yes, Mom, I’m awake. I have been for awhile.” Blake pinches her phone between her ear and her shoulder and removes the tea bag steeping in the cheap motel mug. Breakfast half eaten, she sits on the table in front of her with a dog eared copy of the trail guide she’s already read more times than she can count.</p><p>“Good. You have such a big adventure ahead of you, sweetheart.” A faint gruff rumble comes through the speaker. “Your father wants to know if you’ve double checked your supplies.” </p><p>She sips her tea, shifting her phone back to her free hand to shake her head fondly. “Of course he does, and of course, I did. I checked it three times, just like we used to before our trips.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Yup. A cute girl at REI even helped me pick stuff out last month.” Yang looks across the room at her pack, half unpacked, contents strewn across the small dining table. The curl of her lips is smug while she remembers slipping the receipt for everything into her pocket, a freshly penned phone number and a heart on the back. “I’ll check it all again before I leave today, don’t worry.” </p><p>Ruby giggles, “Let me guess, she gave you her number and you never called her?” </p><p>"Oh come on, I’m not that predictable,” she scoffs, finally sitting up to stretch the sleep out of her muscles, letting them relax when her eyes connect with the coffee maker. Ruby doesn’t say a word, a knowing silence taking over the call. </p><p>“Okay, fine, that’s what happened, but what was I supposed to do? I already knew I was moving by then.” Yang flicks on the faucet to fill the small carafe, glancing up at the mirror to assess the tangled mass of hair and crinkled bed sheet impressions on her face. <br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>“We could have stored your stuff from the apartment, honey. You know we don’t mind.”</p><p>Blake lets out a resigned sigh, thumbing the edge of her empty mug, “There was nothing worth keeping.”</p><p>Walking back through the memory of those four walls, she can’t see anything that truly belongs to her in a significant way. Everything is tinted red, molded by the shape of rough, unrelenting hands. You can’t leave something behind that was never yours to begin with.</p><p>“Okay.” The lilt in Kali’s voice is familiar, comforting in its concern. “Did you get all of your packages set up for Ilia to send to your stops?”</p><p>Glancing at the alarm clock, that for some reason is almost hanging off the edge of the motel nightstand, she moves to throw away her empty plate. Soon she’ll need to focus on getting ready, but she’d gotten up early enough to not feel the need to rush.</p><p>“I dropped them off with her last week and I emailed her all the addresses and dates.” </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Did you really have to write the addresses and names on a napkin and send a picture?” Ruby gripes, her voice a little more distant than before, no doubt holding her phone out to squint at the picture Yang sent. Not her finest penmanship, she’ll admit. </p><p>She grips the back of her neck, tipping her head back with a sigh, a light pang of guilt sets in. “I was in a rush. If you really need me to, I can type it out and text it to you.” </p><p>She really had intended to give Ruby a typed out list; getting the addresses right could be the difference between a good hike and a total disaster, but with the rush to pack up her old life and planning the long trek it completely slipped her mind until the last minute. </p><p>“Nah, I’m used to your chicken scratch handwriting by now,” Ruby dismisses. “Ya’know it’s not too late to get a bus ticket,” Ruby practically sing-songs through the receiver. Yang can hear the cheery smirk on her little sister’s face, ever the optimist of the family. “You could be here in less than a few weeks.” </p><p>“Come on! Where is your sense of adventure?” Yang chuckles as she shoves food into her dry bag, counting the rations to make sure she’d done her math right. </p><p>An appalled sound of distress crackles through the speaker, “I have a sense of adventure! We used to go on adventures all the time. Don’t you remember what mom would always say?” Ruby clears her throat, preparing for her ‘adult impression.’ “There is a sunrise and a sunset every day and you can—” </p><p>“Ruby!” Yang interrupts, the emotions knot in her chest. The synthetic material of her pack bunches between clenched fingers. A flash of a white winter jacket and a bright smile burn behind her eyelids, she pushes it away quickly. She’d given up the warmth of sunrises years ago. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Mom!” Blake pinches the bridge of her nose. “I’ll be fine.”</p><p>“I know, dear, but you know your father and I worry,” Kali sighs. A tea kettle whistles in the background, the pitch descending as Kali removes it from the stove.</p><p>Blake drops her hand from her face remembering that she doesn’t have to shield herself anymore, that words aren’t weapons in the mouths of people that really care about you. “I love you both, so much.”</p><p>“We love you, too.”</p><p>The warmth in Kali's words radiate in Blake’s chest. She rests a hand atop her pack, thinking about all the meticulous planning that got her to this moment. For the first time in her life, it feels like she’s running to something instead of running away.</p><p>“A lot of people don’t finish the entire trail on their first try, Blake.” </p><p>“I know, but I have to.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>—--<br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>The Vacuo desert heat is different from what Blake’s used to. The midmorning air sticks dry in her throat, staying on the surface of her skin rather than sinking in like the sticky tropical heat of Menagerie that she’d grown up knowing. She laughs to herself, something she’ll have to get used to doing, thinking about how much of a relief it is that she won’t drown in the desert. The humid heat of Menagerie always made it feel like she was breathing in water, drowning on dry land. Eventually she realized that was exactly what she’d been doing. </p><p>Her pack shifts slightly side to side with every step she takes. Getting to the trailhead itself is a twenty-minute hike, uphill no less, a test of will before the real journey. </p><p>She doesn’t start questioning her decision until fifteen minutes in, which from the testimonials she’d read to prepare for the trip, feels like an accomplishment. The incline of the hill isn’t steep but it’s just enough to give her trouble. Blake’s hand constricts around her trekking pole, a slight burn flaring up in her legs that will only get more intense as she walks. The first steps are always the hardest to take, a statement that came up in many of the testimonials, sparks a fire in her chest. </p><p>Once she breaks the crest of the hill she looks back at the highway, much smaller now, and the land beyond it that led to Vacuo. A large, no doubt bustling city she’d never been to in her life, a small speck in the distance that quivered in the heatwaves on the horizon. She wonders what the people there are like. If any of them had passed their breaking point like she had. If any of them walked the miles she’s about to. If any of them had found what they were looking for at the other end of it. </p><p>The wooden sun-warped lid of the login box feels like it could crumble to dust in her hand as she lifts it. All hikers have to sign and date the notebook inside, most just scribble their name and the date, but a few draw small pictures or leave quotes. The page is half full and the last person to write in it left a quote behind.</p><p>
  <em> When I had no roof I made</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Audacity my roof </em>
</p>
<ul>
<li><em>Robert Pinsky and Yang Xiao Long </em></li>
</ul><p> </p><p>She reads it and reads it again, saving it for later, an inkling of curiosity for the woman who wrote it. What her story could be. If their paths would cross in the next thousand miles she’ll walk. </p><p>Blake writes her name, the date, and nothing else. Unable to think of a good enough quote to follow Yang’s, so she lets it breathe. Maybe she’ll write one at the next login book.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>—--<br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>It only takes a few days for Yang to start missing human interaction. Even just the sight of another person crosses her mind often. When she was living in Vacuo she would just text Ruby if she was feeling lonely or go out for a drink to forget, but there’s no cell service in the desert and definitely no bars to drown at. So she is left with only her thoughts as company. She scoffs at herself under the heat of the midday sun. ‘It will be fine,’ she thinks.</p><p>After a week she’s named her water bottle, starts making quips to it to break the tension. Adventure is lonelier than she’d planned for it to be. Not that she’d planned much past the route and her resupplies. Going with the flow has always been her thing, moving from one place to the next, just trying not to get swept up in the storm. </p><p>The shutter of her camera becomes a second companion. Even though she’s said ‘fuck sand’ more times than she can count by now, the desert has moments of beauty that are worth capturing. </p><p>By halfway through the second week she realizes she is the storm. All strong winds and lightning strikes. She walks too hard and kicks rocks out of her way, making her body pay for the sins of her mind, walking less and less each day. She starts using her mp3 player more and more, trying to suffocate her thoughts with sound, bombarding them until she can pretend they aren’t there. </p><p>It works for a while, but she only has so many hours of battery and so many recharges on the back up batteries. She starts to ration her usage. </p><p>Three weeks. Three weeks into the desert and away from civilization. The storm is roaring in her heart and her head and no amount of noise is going to stop it from raging on. The sand under her feet feels thicker, slowing her pace, every grain a memory that clings to her and pulls her down. </p><p>No singular memory plays out in full. All of them spill over before the last has had a chance to finish. She stands on the beach near her childhood home watching the waves break over each other; she drops the empty bottle of Jack and walks into the water, ready to be swallowed whole. She sits on a barstool at a club in Vacuo, her keys are already behind the bar, the empty glass she rolls in her fingers mocks her with its shine. She’s led away by a blurry face and a warm hand, over and over and over again, the morning never holding explanations. Just more of the silences she’d been running from, so she keeps running, sinking, drowning. Waist deep in the ocean with waves breaking against her chest, her funeral blacks cling to her skin. The spray of the ocean wets her face, adding salt to tear tracks that feel like trenches. Patch is always cold this time of year, her feet start to feel numb, she welcomes it. </p><p>Making camp tonight is different than all the nights before. Her limbs are numb, all the way down to the tips of her fingers and toes, drained of feeling from the fatigue of thoughts. Every move is sluggish and the sight of her tent poles disgusts her, sneering at them, she leaves them half removed from the bag. Laying out a small tarp on the sand and rolling out her sleeping bag is the best she can do. One night under the stars will be okay. </p><p>Rolling open her dry bag, she grabs an MRE near the top. She rolls the top of the bag down a few times, tossing it to her side to put away later. Ripping open the top of the pouch with her teeth, she tips the end, eating the contents so fast she can’t tell what it is meant to taste like. It doesn’t matter. She puts the empty wrapper into her waste bag and stuffs it back inside her pack. </p><p>The sleeping bag is warm, protecting her from the chill that falls over the desert when the sun finally goes down. Looking up at the sprawling sky above her, she lets out a breath of relief. It’s beautiful and vaste and so much more than her. The moon’s shattered pieces float weightless against a blanket of stars. She feels small in her sleeping bag, content being dwarfed by the cosmos.</p><p>But it doesn’t last. </p><p>The coyotes howl in the distance; most nights she can hear them call to each other, always far enough away for comfort. She looks up again after a moment of stillness. Searching the sky for familiar constellations, she finds them easily. She doesn’t know many, but all the one’s she knows she’d learned from Summer. “I thought about you today,” she whispers, and somehow she feels even smaller.</p><p>
  <em> She blinks and she’s a bright eyed twelve year old ready to take on the world again, self assured and woefully unprepared for what was to come. They run down the gravel path, listening to pebbles crunch and scatter under their feet. Ruby is fast for a nine year old—she’ll outpace Yang in everything else with time, but for now Yang’s just a little faster. She bounds up the porch steps two at a time, nearly crashing into the door before slowing down to twist the handle.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Summer stands on the other side, duffle bags and camping gear in hand. They toss their school bags under the dining room table, relics of responsibility they no longer need, and rush to her side. “Are you ready?” she says, as though they hadn’t been ready since they left for school that morning. Giggling, she lets them drag her out the door, giving a quick kiss to Tai before she’s been taken completely.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As they clear the trees Yang can see the sun starting to set below the cliff. As they get closer to the edge, the glint of the ocean makes her squint, but the view is too mesmerizing to look away. Off to the right, she can see the shadows stretch behind their house, small but still discernible in the distance. Her legs ache from the uphill climb and Ruby flops next to her in exhaustion, nearly taking her out at her ankles.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Setting up their tent is easy; Summer lets her do it by herself. Yang is so eager to prove she can. The chill of the evening sets in on them as she gets the last of the tent stakes pounded into the soft earth. Her chest puffs up with pride looking over her work, only to be let out with a snort and a boisterous laugh as Ruby dives into the open door of the tent head first. Eager to claim a spot for her own things she rushes in after her little sister, leaving Summer to watch adoringly from the cliff's edge.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Being tucked into Summer’s side makes the night air more tolerable, and the small fire they sit near does the rest to warm them. Ruby squirms in Summer’s lap, just a little too big to fit like she used to, but none of them seem to care.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The crackle of the fire competing against the gentle crashing of waves below them fills Yang up, the rhythm creates a strong sense of calm that soothes her entire body. Summer turns her head to the sky. “The stars are always ready to tell you a story if you’re prepared to listen.” Summer lifts a hand, pointing up at the sky, making sure they both follow where she’s guiding them. “That one is Ursa Major and the one above it is Ursa Minor.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ruby cocks her head to the side, keeping her eyes fixed on the constellations above. “What’s an ursa?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s another name for a bear, silly,” Summer chides, gripping Ruby’s sides until she giggles and squirms in place. “The story for these two are connected.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yang shifts against her side as Summer wraps an arm around her, pulling her close. “They were not originally bears at all; they were humans, a mother and her child. But after she gives birth she is cursed, turned into a bear, never to see her child again.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A loud crack makes Yang’s muscles tense. A large splinter flies into the coals, breaking away from one of the logs in the pile. Summer rubs her side until she relaxes again. Finding calm doesn’t take long in her mother’s arms—it never did.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Ashamed of her curse and devastated by her loss, she flees to the forest and hides. The child grows up without her, never knowing her fate. Fifteen years later, they find her in the forest. Unaware of who she is and terrified of such a giant bear, they raise their spear, ready to smite the creature where it stands.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ruby gasps, fully enraptured by the story. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “But before he can throw his spear, the Gods send a whirlwind that carries them both into the heavens, where they turn the mother into Ursa Major and the child into Ursa minor.” Summer lets out a content breath, kissing Ruby on the head and squeezing Yang before she continues. “As the planet spins and the stars shift, they never have to be apart again. The mother will always watch over her child as they dance across the night sky.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The fire pops again, this time a log falls, creating a flurry of sparks that flutter into the air. Ruby clambers out of Summer’s lap to add another small log to the pile, her designated job for the evening that she has been quick to tend to each time it is called for.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “So instead of just taking the spear away, the Gods turned them into stars?” Yang scoffs. “That’s dumb.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Summer ruffles Yang’s hair, “Oh, my little light, but how could the mother look after her child if the Gods hadn’t put them in the stars?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With a pout on her face Yang fixes her hair. “Couldn’t they have turned her back into a human?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Sometimes even the Gods aren’t strong enough to break a curse.” Summer speaks with such certainty that there is no room for doubt, no route to a different conclusion, so Yang doesn’t question it. In a few years time, these words will echo in Yang’s mind like a bullet ricocheting in her skull, ripping her to shreds. </em>
</p><p>The coyotes howl again, closer this time, but she’s too swept up in the past to care. The cold desert breeze picks up and only then does she realize there are tears streaming down her face into her hair. She wipes them away and clenches her eyelids as hard as she can, trying to blot the memory away. Even the good memories sting like open wounds, tender to any kind of touch. </p><p>Her breath shudders and creates a small cloud above her. “<em> Fuck! </em>” </p><p>She shoves her earbuds into place, letting out a choked huff, putting it on shuffle and turning up the volume. Anything to keep her from staying sunken into the memories so ready to play on repeat in her mind. She falls asleep to a heavy base line and lyrics so familiar they fade into nothing, a beautiful static to get lost in.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>——-</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>After three weeks, packing up camp has become a mindless routine. Blake does her final check over her pack before the bottom edge of the sun passes the horizon. Taking a moment to breathe in the sunrise and be still in it, she greets a new day. One day closer to being out of the desert. She’s never missed trees more in her life.</p><p>She won’t be seeing the kind of trees she’s used to on the rest of the walk through Sanus, but anything that’s tall enough to offer shade sounds like a blessing right now. The scraggly, spiny bushes and short trees of the desert offered nothing in the way of protection, often providing perfect camouflage for less than welcome critters she’d rather not cross paths with. </p><p>By mid morning she has imagined every shape of every tree she’d ever seen, ranking her favorites and deciding which she’d like to curl up and read a book under—it is a long and very detailed list.</p><p>A ray of sun glints off of something metallic on the trail ahead. Blake shields her eyes to avoid the pain of direct sunlight. Squinting past her hand she tries to decipher what it could be. It isn’t a trail marker and she isn’t due to cross paths with another water tank for thirty miles. This is odd. Her ears pitch forward, straining to confirm what she thinks she can hear. Music. It’s faint, but it’s definitely music. Odder still. </p><p>Calling what she finds a camp seems generous. It’s a mess, one more likely made by scavengers than a person, but the real concern is the blonde woman seemingly asleep in the sand. At least Blake hopes she is asleep. A small tarp and a sleeping bag is all that stand between this girl and the harsh elements. Everything she’d read advised hikers to camp in their tents while crossing the desert, warning against heat stroke, sunburns and dehydration. </p><p>Blake swallows her worries and steps carefully around the contents of the woman’s pack scattered around in the sand. Most of it looks intact aside from a few rips at the top of the backpack and the countless food wrappers scattered all around them. </p><p>With a tentative foot she taps the lower part of the sleeping bag, no movement. She pushes her foot into the woman’s calf a little harder, leaving it pressed there for longer. Blake clears her throat, “Excuse me.” The woman rolls onto her side with a disgruntled mumble. A little dumbstruck by the strength of this woman’s sleep, she gives up on a gentle approach. </p><p>Blake kicks her this time, just enough to shift the woman’s leg a little. “Hey.”</p><p>The woman sits up in a flash, pulling up her fists in preparation to fight whatever had woken her, eyes wild with adrenaline. When their eyes meet Blake swears she sees a tint of red, but it’s gone as soon as the woman blinks, her bewildered expression becoming something closer confused and embarrassed. She pulls headphones out of her ears and starts to wrap them around the mp3 player sitting in her lap, never breaking eye contact. </p><p>Blake’s mind is running through so many different questions she forgets that she’s supposed to speak, too preoccupied with the absurdity of circumstance and the fact that <em> no one looks this good after waking up, let alone waking up in a desert</em>. </p><p>“Hi.” The woman clears her throat, a small smile forming on her lips. “So do you kick all the women you find sleeping in the desert?” </p><p>With a quirked eyebrow, a small smile forms on Blake’s lips to match. “Only the lucky ones.” She nods her head at the trash lying around in the sand. “And the ones that make an impression.” </p><p>“Shit!” The woman scrambles out of her sleeping bag and takes the few steps to reach an open dry bag sitting in the sand. She inspects the inside, with a huff she throws her head back, letting the bag rest at her side. </p><p>“How much did you lose?” </p><p>“Not all of it, I’ll probably need to cut a few meals until I get to Gossan.” She sighs, the thought she doesn’t share making her face harden, lips tight and eyebrows pinched in frustration. She closes her eyes against the hot sun, flexing and clenching her fingers at her side in a steady rhythm.</p><p>An uneasy feeling creeps up Blake’s neck when she realizes she’s watching what feels like a very private moment. One of her ears twitches, she can hear the woman’s forced breathing, they swivel back as she averts her eyes from the blonde - some moments are meant to be lived outside the company of strangers. Moved by the anxiety, she shrugs off her pack, leaving it propped against a shrub, she starts to pick up the food wrappers scattered on the ground. </p><p>After collecting a very large fistfull of various packaging the woman joins her in collecting the rest. She extends her waste bag out, muttering an abashed ‘thank you’ after Blake drops the trash into it.</p><p>“I’m Yang, by the way.” She holds out a cheerful albeit awkward hand. </p><p>Blake reaches out her hand, thinking back to her first day. “Yang Xiao Long?”   </p><p>“Oh, no. Have we met before?” Yang’s hand tenses in hers, a flash of fear crosses her face but it’s so brief Blake can’t think to wonder why she’d be afraid of knowing her already. Yang’s eyes narrow. “No, you have a face I’d never forget.” </p><p>The words are said in such a matter of fact tone that Blake loses her entire train of thought, derailed and piled up in the sand around them. Frustration pulls at the back of her mind, struck speechless by a beautiful stranger three times before the sun reaches its peak for the day. “Wha—”</p><p>“So, how do you know my name?” Yang asks curiously. Her grip on Blake’s hand is loose and could be broken at any time, but Blake can’t bring herself to let go just yet. </p><p>“The logbook.” The desert is warm, but the flush on Blake’s face has nothing to do with the heat that beats down on them. “I remembered it because of the quote.”</p><p>Yang’s grin is smug, an invitation more than a warning. “Well I’m glad my first impression was better than this one…” She trails off in an unspoken question for a name to end the sentence. </p><p>“Blake,” she says, finally dropping Yang’s hand. “And I think you might want to worry more about the impression you made with the coyotes.” </p><p>There’s still a hint of frustration behind Yang’s eyes, but she laughs anyway— a sound that Blake could get used to hearing —resting her hands on her hips, she squints back at the rest of her gear spread around in the sand. </p><p>“I think they’ve cleared me out pretty good already, and I’m sure triple checking that my dry bag is closed before going to bed will help my chances.” </p><p>“I might have a few things I can spare,” Blake says, walking back to her bag. </p><p>Yang follows a few steps behind, stopping to pick up the items from her pack still scattered in the sand. “In that giant pack? I’d never guess.” </p><p>“Smartass.” She rolls her eyes, smiling fondly, and suddenly, Yang doesn’t feel like a stranger anymore.</p><p>She pulls two granola bars out of the top of her pack and tosses one to Yang, who somehow catches it in a single hand while looking down at her equipment. It’s only then that Blake notices the uneven patches of pink skin and raised edges that run along Yang’s forearm. She drops herself down in the sand and leans against her pack, focusing on the granola bar in her hands so she doesn’t let curiosity control her tongue. </p><p>Taking a bite, she wonders if she’ll ever find out. If Yang is even willing to talk about it at all. </p><p>They sit in silence for a while. Yang inspects her gear with careful consideration for each piece, running gentle fingers over each item to check for damage. Blake spends more time watching those fingers than paying attention to her food, fiddling idly with the wrapper as she lets her eyes wander. Tank tops aren’t the best protection against the sun, but Blake can’t fault Yang’s choice of attire one bit. Yang spends the most time pulling apart her camera bag, looking over all the parts and even taking a few photos to make sure it’s still intact. </p><p>It’s Yang’s voice that breaks the silence. “What are you doing?” </p><p>Her eyes snap up to Yang’s face and luckily she’s still focused on her equipment. Blake breathes a sigh of relief, trying not to sound guilty. “Eating a snack…?” </p><p>Yang looks up, nods her head toward the trail, “No, I mean, don’t you have some walking to do?” </p><p>Her words hold no malice, just good natured curiosity. It’s encouraging the way she says it. As if she’s already invested in Blake’s success without knowing the extent of her journey, but the importance of that journey weighing on her isn’t what stops Blake from moving; it's a smile that rivals the sun.</p><p>“I haven’t seen another person in three full weeks.” A small smirk creeps onto her lips. “Are you so ready to be rid of me?” </p><p>“Definitely not.” It’s instant, genuine. The words leave Yang’s mouth before Blake has time to blink. When she does, it’s slow, purposeful. She keeps them closed for a few extra seconds, half expecting Yang not to be there when she opens them.</p><p>But she is; an oasis instead of a mirage. </p><p>Yang stuffs the rest of her gear back into her bag, haphazardly patching the rips at the top with strips of duct tape from the small spool on her trekking pole. She inspects her handy work with a lopsided smile, tugging at the edges to make sure the patch will hold. Once satisfied, she plops down near Blake. She props her bag against a bush and leans into it, taking advantage of the meager shade it provides. </p><p>“So were you already planning on stopping in Gossan?” </p><p>Yang rips open her granola bar with her teeth, they both chuckle a little when it nearly flies out of the packaging, “Yeah, got a room booked. I’ve never hiked this far before, figured sleepin’ in a bed after a month in the desert would be a nice treat.” </p><p>“I booked one too.” She’d read that a lot of first time hikers regretted not booking a room, thankful again for her meticulous preparation. Her eyes dart between Yang and her duct taped pack, “We can walk together if you want. That way I can cover the food you lost if you need it.” </p><p>Yang hesitates, but only for a moment, hard worry lines giving way to a warm smile and a soft sigh.</p><p>“I think I’d like that.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They make a few compromises, but otherwise they are completely in sync. Blake still gets up at sunrise, savoring a cup of tea and reading a book while she waits for Yang to wake up an hour or so after her. Yang cooks their dinners once they stop for the day, a thank you for letting her sleep a little longer. She insists on it and Blake doesn’t have the heart to protest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even with the later start they walk more miles each day together than either of them had alone. Blake asks one day, curious for the first time how she’d managed to catch up to Yang when she’d started the trail a few days earlier. Yang can’t look her in the eye when she says the last few days before they met hadn’t been good milage days. Shrugging it off as fatigue, Yang changes the subject quickly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They hear the coyotes often when the sun goes down, but they never come close to camp again. Yang triple checks her dry bag and sleeps in her tent every night. Without fail, after turning out her lantern for the night, Blake picks up the faint sound of music coming from Yang’s tent. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It is much easier to ignore the hot sun and aching feet when in the presence of good company. Yang proves herself to be even more each day, filling the silence with easy conversation and jokes that Blake can’t help but laugh at. She tells stories with sweeping gestures, makes the days feel shorter, and somehow knows when Blake needs a little quiet for herself. In all of her planning, Blake never accounted for the possibility of making friends on the trail, but by the beginning of the second week she doesn’t know what else to call Yang.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The shutter of her camera becomes so familiar, but Blake can never tell exactly what drives Yang to take the pictures. Most of the desert ahead of them looks exactly the same to her as the desert they’d left behind. Yang just mutters half sentences about hidden beauty before losing her train of thought in capturing it, never picking up the thought after she clips her camera back into place on her backpack strap. Blake doesn’t ask for an explanation, doesn’t feel entitled to one. Maybe Yang will finish the sentence at some point and she won’t have to ask. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few days from Gossan they stop dead in their tracks. Blake assumes Yang saw the rattlesnake in the middle of the trail at the same time, because they stand frozen in place together. Blake feels her heart pounding in her chest and hears Yang’s pulsing just as fast. She’s still caught up in it when Yang slips her hand into Blake’s, getting a firm grip before she starts to take slow side steps off of the trail. Blake follows, never taking her eyes off the snake and never letting go of Yang’s hand. The rattle of its tail slows as they put more space between them and the snake. Once they make it back onto the trail they walk as fast as they can, almost jogging until the snake is out of sight — only then do they stop holding onto each other. Blake isn’t sure who lets go first, but the fits of nervous laughter they share make it hard to focus on anything else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That night Yang talks about saving her sister from a wild boar when they were kids. She makes grand gestures with her hands over her camp stove and swears on her remaining food rations that it really happened. Blake laughs along, tells herself that the warm feeling in her chest is left over from the hot sun, an after effect of a day full of adrenaline, but she watches the sun set behind Yang and wonders which is more beautiful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The last day brings a change of scenery. The trail guidebook could not have prepared Blake for the experience of finally reaching the last stretch of the trail that leads to Gossan. The magnitude of it cements her feet in place. She hears the rattle of Yang’s pack go silent, a sign that they were both struck by the same sight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Daaaamn,” Yang breathes out. Blake hears the shutter of Yang’s camera click in rapid succession, capturing the basin that stretches out in front of them. From where they stand, they can see all of it. A shelf of rock expands to both sides and circles around to make a crescent shape. Countless shades of orange, brown and red make lines and gradients down the steep edges. The trail runs in a gradual decline along one of the faces, the switchbacks making a zig zag down into the basin itself. Sand still stretches as far as she can see, but near the center of the basin sits the town of Gossan. The few large buildings that are distinguishable from where they stand line one edge of a large lake that shimmers and reflects the midmorning sun. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Between the switchback of the trail into the basin slowing their pace and the walk to Gossan itself they make it to the edge of town by late afternoon. Hiking downhill leaves a burning sensation in Blake’s legs unlike anything she’d felt since starting the trail. By the time they walk into town she’s ready to collapse onto her rented bed, but Yang convinces her food is a worthy first endeavor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After more than a month of granola bars, oatmeal and MREs damn near anything that could come out of a real kitchen sounds heavenly. They hurriedly leave their packs at a table in the large picnic area outside the cafe. Other hikers nod at them with a smile —they know the urgency of this moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She can feel Yang practically vibrating next to her. Blake’s eyes dart around the menu board above the counter, none of the options are fancy but there is enough variety to make them both pause in contemplation. Yang walks up first, giving a boisterous hello to the cashier she orders her food. She comes back to Blake’s side with a grin that could rival a sugar-rushed toddler’s. “Having a hard time narrowing it down?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A little bit,” she says slowly, squinting up at the menu. It’s mostly the truth, but she’d probably have already picked if she hadn’t been distracted watching Yang place her order.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pick the food you’ve had dreams about. Or the one you’ve dreamt about the most.” The whimsy in her voice is a recollection, one that Blake can’t hold her curiosity of. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She raises an eyebrow, “You’ve been dreaming about food?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah. Have you not?!” Yang asks, the shock on her face seems genuine, as if walking through the desert could lead to anything but dreams about food. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake fights a smile, has to double her efforts when Yang narrows her eyes. “Maybe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Yang can get out a rebuttal, Blake walks up to the counter. The urge to look back is strong, but she doesn’t, some things are worth the wait. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The clatter of their trays against the table gives away their thinly veiled excitement. Taking a moment to breath, she looks over at Yang, who is looking down at her cheeseburger like she could cry. Looking down at her own plate she’s pretty sure she shares the same expression. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some foods just aren’t an option on the trail, the tuna melt sitting in front of her being one of them. She picks it up delicately, as if it could shatter into dust in her hands. Blake takes a bite and swears this is the closed thing she’s ever had to a truly religious experience. This is a moment to be savored. They eat in silence, taking small glances at each other and smiling as much as they dare with mouthfuls of food. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang finishes her food first, taking a moment to breathe before pushing her tray aside and crossing her arms on the table. She rests her head on them and closes her eyes. This is the most content Blake has ever seen her. She only realizes she’s staring when Yang opens her eyes again, a small blush burns on Blake’s cheeks as her eyes dart back to her food.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They agree to meet for lunch the next day and head off to their respective rooms. Blake has just enough energy to take a quick shower. The warm water nearly puts her to sleep standing up, another thing to be savored after so long in the desert. By the time her head hits the pillow the sun hasn’t set yet, but it doesn’t matter. She’s out the moment she closes her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mid morning light pours in through the small window, casting beams across a comfortable bed. In it, waking up is gradual. It takes time to realize she’s slept past sunrise. The task at hand for the next two days is rest, and — as much as she hates to admit — it will be the best way to cover the most ground moving forward. Keeping pace is crucial to finishing the trail. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time Blake gets out of her room it’s too late in the morning for breakfast. Not wanting to ruin her lunch plans with Yang, she decides to explore Gossan while she waits. There aren’t many buildings, just the general store, the inn, a repair shop, and the cafe. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She walks the edge of the lake next to all the buildings, caught up in how the water ripples in the light breeze and the sunlight reflects off of each imperfection in the surface. Blake is broken out of the trance when a loud cackle rings out from up ahead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Looking away from the lake and back toward the buildings she sees a small elderly woman with thick horn rim glasses sitting cross legged on a picnic table, waving one end of an ornate walking stick in the face of a very disgruntled Yang. Her arms are crossed, even from a distance she can tell Yang is doing her best to hold back. Blake picks up her pace as she leaves the path and walks toward the picnic table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She notices Yang’s pack and its contents spread across the section of the picnic table that the woman isn’t sitting on. Pitching her ears forward she hears part of the conversation before she can reach them. The uncomfortable feeling she gets from eavesdropping is easy to ignore compared to the concern of what has Yang so on edge. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“—could learn a thing or two from me, if you’d listen.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang narrows her eyes, “Aren’t you a little old to be out here in the middle of nowhere picking fights with strangers?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman cackles again. “I’m a trail angel. Which means you are stuck with me, at least here in Gossan.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lady, you aren’t going to convince me you’re a ghost, you’re right in front of me,” Yang scoffs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t say I was a ghost. My gods, your hearing must be worse than my eyesight.” The woman waves her walking stick near Yang’s face again, this time Yang catches the carved decorative skull in one hand. Her eyes blaze crimson. Blake didn’t trust what she’d seen in the desert when Yang’s eyes flashed that color, but now she was sure, because the red doesn’t fade this time. The elderly woman continues, “I said trail angel. It’s —” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A person that helps hikers. Some volunteer in trail towns, some just live near the trail and offer food or a place to stay,” Blake interrupts, planting herself probably a little too close to Yang. “I’ve never heard of any picking fights, though.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang looks at her in surprise, a small smile grows as the red fades back into lilac. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman sets her walking stick down at her side, pushing her glasses up her nose to look at Blake, “At least this one listens, but I assure you my fighting days are long over.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Says the old lady in charge of pack shakedowns,” Yang mutters under her breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake chuckles, “You asked for a pack shakedown?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! I was checking the hiker box for supplies and she insisted,” Yang retorts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I might not have as sharp of sight as I used to, but I could tell you were missing basics just by the look of that mess.” The old woman gestures to the duct tape on the emptied pack. “You didn’t bring a basic patch kit and your first aid kit is just a pack of Bandaids and a handful of Advil.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake looks at Yang with a sheepish grin. “You did pack a little light.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, just because I didn’t pack my entire medicine cabinet like some people—” she says pointedly at Blake, “—doesn’t mean I packed too light.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman chims in, “Except you did.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How would you know?!” Yang shouts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I spent thirty years hiking this trail, that’s how.” The woman nods with a smile, completely unphased by Yang’s outburst. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake looks at the woman again, from her walking stick to the horn rim glasses, “Wait. What is your name?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maria Calavera.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In all of the research she did before her trip, Blake always saw one name repeated the most. Her story was an inspiration to so many. She should have recognized the woman in front of her from the descriptions she’d read, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>The</span>
  </em>
  <span> Maria Calavera? The Queen of the RCCT?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No one has called me that in years. Just Maria, dear.” She waves a hand in dismissal, suddenly letting her attention go back to Yang’s gear on the table. “This pack really is a mess.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang ducks her head and whispers so only Blake can hear her, “What are you talking about?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s her trail name. She was the first woman to walk the entire trail start to finish,” Blake smirks. “Which means you should probably listen if she says your pack is too light.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang’s eyes narrow, but her lips curl just enough for Blake to know she’s won, “Fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sit across from each other at the picnic table, listening to Maria talk about the contents of Yang’s pack and the things she should add to make the rest of the trail a better experience. She uses the head of her walking stick to poke and prod at each item gently. Some items make Maria reminisce about her own travels, but it’s always brief. It’s clear to Blake that Maria, while loving the memories she has, takes the job of preparing hikers for their journeys more seriously. Yang pushes back against the advice less, still standing her ground on a few things she swears she doesn’t need. Maria tsks each time, glancing at Blake with a knowing smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn’t take long for Maria to make her way through Yang’s whole pack. She pulls out a small notepad and starts scribbling down a list of things she should add. She rips the slip of paper out and slaps it into Yang’s hand with a grin.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang shoves the slip of paper into her pocket as they walk toward the cafe, “I guess I’ll have to go to the general store after lunch.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake’s mind is still back at the picnic table. Her feet stall and she calls out to Yang before turning back, “I need to ask her one more thing. I’ll meet you at the cafe.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. I’ll get us a table.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They hadn’t made it far, so getting back to Maria is a short endeavour. If she’s quick enough she might catch back up to Yang before she gets to the cafe. Her stomach rumbles, reminding her that she hasn’t eaten yet today. Maria is in the same place they’d left her, sitting cross legged on the top of the picnic table, waiting to help whoever needs it next. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Will you be around later? I want to bring my pack in for a shakedown before I leave tomorrow.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be here.” Maria smiles at her, leaning closer with a gleam of mischief in her eyes, “I’ll even tell you about the best secret spots on the trail to take your girlfriend.” Maria nods behind Blake, looking back Yang still hasn’t left their line of sight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake feels the heat bloom on the back of her neck, her ears shoot straight up, she sputters, betraying herself, “T-thank you for your help, but that’s not… she’s not my girlfriend.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turns and takes rushed steps, but before she’s out of earshot she hears Maria mutter something that sounds an awful lot like ‘not yet.’ </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake is leaving today. Yang paces back and forth in her room, playing through possible conversations. Finding the right words feels impossible. She’s never had a conversation like this. All the people in her life she cared about never gave her the chance to convince them she was worth staying, not that words could have changed the outcome at all. Some people are born to leave, just like some people are doomed to be left behind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her sweat clings at her palms, the repetition of her rhythmic footsteps on the carpet doing little to soothe her nerves. Blake asked to see her before she left, that has to be a good sign, even if it feels like an ending. She looks at the clock on the wall, still an hour before she has to meet Blake for lunch. That’s enough time to pull herself together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She goes down to the picnic area early, not wanting to risk missing Blake, telling herself it’s everything to do with breaking old habits and nothing to do with the pit in her stomach that’s screaming ‘You might just lose her too.’ But Blake isn’t hers to lose. Enjoying someone’s company is not enough of a reason to assume you get to keep it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her leg bounces under the table, trying to focus every molecule of nervous energy into her foot and out of her chest. She has to play this cool. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She catches Blake out of the corner of her eye. By now, she thinks she can spot Blake’s giant purple pack from anywhere, but that’s not what she sees first. It’s always her face that Yang sees first. Her amber eyes, the soft curve of her lips, the way the sun plays off of her skin. Just like the day Blake found her, she can’t look away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey stranger,” Blake says playfully, dropping her pack and sitting down across the table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ready to get back out there?” The question is redundant and Yang knows it. Blake spent both days in town restless, sitting still seemed to be killing her. She’d said the goal of staying in Gossan was to relax, but Yang hadn’t seen her relax at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“More than ready.” she says, gripping at the shoulder straps on her pack. Yang can’t tell if it's blind hope or if Blake really has a lingering doubt threaded through her voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang should say something but for once her mind is blank. The silence hangs between them while the bustle of other hikers circles their table. Most are occupied by trays of food or the company that sits across from them, others make their way out of the swinging cafe doors with food wrapped to go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake fidgets idle with her necklace, rolling the golden ring at the end between her fingers. “Lunch?” she asks, popping up from the table and walking backwards toward the cafe doors. “Same thing you had yesterday?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang nods her head, too lost in thought as to why Blake remembered her lunch order to say a word. Maybe Blake just has a good memory. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once she reappears with two trays, Yang has rehearsed her speech more times than she can count. “Blake, I—” Yang stalls out, the look of concern on Blakes face stops her in her tracks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake’s ears perk up just a little, the way they did when she’d read at night after stopping for the day. “Are you okay? Did I get your order wrong?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake looks down apprehensively and Yang curses herself. This is not how it was supposed to go. “No, no it’s exactly what I ordered yesterday. I’m okay. I just—”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang takes a deep breath. There’s only one way to do this, it has to be from the heart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She settles her hands in her lap, careful to hide them so they don’t give her away. “I’ve had a lot of fun walking with you and I was wondering if you’d want to stick together for a while?” Her hands clench around the fabric of her shorts. “It’s totally cool if not, no pressure or anything.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang leans back, smooths out the wrinkles in her shorts, doing her best to at least seem a little nonchalant about the whole thing. Blake stays silent, picking at her food. A coy smile grows on her face like it can’t be held back any longer. “I think I’d like that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang laughs; hearing her own words repeated back to her is strangely indescribable. The pit in her stomach has been filled, butterfly wings brushing the edges when Blake chuckles along with her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The laughter settles and they eat their lunch. Talking about the weather and how ready they are to be free of sand. What it will be like to see trees again. It takes almost nothing to get back to the ease of conversation, a balm to soothe Yang’s nerves. Her leg stops bouncing, feet firmly on the ground. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, are we still leaving today?” Blakes asks once their plates are empty, the question is leading and it puts wind under Yang’s feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pushes herself up from the table, nearly tripping over the bench in her haste. “Give me half an hour.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be waiting.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gods she hopes so. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With Gossan two days behind them and another six before they finally get out of the desert, Blake fixates on their pace. Seeing nothing but sand feels like progress not being made, walking in place with no end in sight. She pulls out her map every time they stop, staring at the topography until Yang taps her on the shoulder so they can start moving again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sitting in the opening of her tent that night is no different. The sound of Yang shuffling in the sand around her camp stove is dull in Blake’s ears as she focuses on the map again, trying to pinpoint exactly where they are in relation to the section of the map that fades from tan to green. She bites her lip, willing them to be closer than they really are.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. I am all for people hiking their own hike, but I am seriously concerned that you might burn holes in that thing from staring at it too hard.” Blake’s ears flick at Yang’s low chuckle, but she keeps her eyes glued to the map in her hands, even when she hears Yang rustle through her pack. “I was going to save these for when we finally got out of the desert, but now seems like the perfect time.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly and reluctantly Blake sets the map down on her legs, looking up at Yang who’s now kneeling in front of her. “What are you—” Blake’s eyes lock onto the green bottle Yang is holding in an outstretched hand, tipping the end forward as an offering. Blake reaches out, running her fingers over the smooth glass and rests the bottom of the bottle against her knee. “Sunflower Pop?” Peeling her eyes away from the grin on Yang’s face, Blake looks down at the bottle. “What does a sunflower even taste like?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It tastes good,” Yang giggles, taking a moment to look down at her own bottle. She levels Blake with her eyes again, softening her grin into a kind smile. “Trust me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake’s shoulders fall when she lets out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. The words hold more weight than Yang can possibly know. So many ways she’s had to re-learn to trust: trust her own judgment, trust the word of others, trust that anything can be trusted ever again. She does trust Yang, or she’s at least starting to, and it’s only a little terrifying. Terrifying enough that she’s let the silence sit for far too long. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She clears her throat, hoping it sounds like a scoff, “Do you even have a bottle opener?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t need one.” Yang doesn’t look away as she grips the bottle around the top of the neck, using her other hand to fish a lighter out of her pocket, wiggling it between her fingers. She wedges the bottom of the lighter between the cap and the knuckle of her index finger. As soon as Yang pushes the top end of the lighter down in a quick single motion Blake hears the hiss and pop of the cap, following it with her eyes when Yang holds the cap up between two fingers, raising a playful eyebrow. “See?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake stares at the cap in Yang’s hand, letting a lazy smile spread, still catching up to how fast she was able to get it off the bottle. “Where did you learn that trick?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Some old friends of mine.” Yang flicks the cap into the air with her thumb, catching it when it comes back down. “They had a lot of ways to get a bottle open without the right tools. One guy used to pop caps with his teeth.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How…?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I have no idea,” she chuckles. “Some things you are just better off not knowing.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake lets out a small laugh, trying not to think of the things not knowing has gotten her in life, that sometimes it really can be a good thing, that it can protect you. She runs her thumb over the label on her drink, ready to think about anything else, “So you bought two glass bottles knowing you’d have to carry them all the way to our next stop?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang rests back against the sand. “Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake thinks back to the map, worrying the edge of the bottle’s label with her thumb, “Aren’t you worried about the glass breaking?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang takes a moment to roll her head to one side, then answers, “Nope.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The corner of the label comes free off the bottle with her next motion, now picking up speed. Blake thinks of how far away that green line on the map is compared to where they sit. “Or the fact that any extra weight could make your hike more difficult?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope.” Yang pops the p this time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake is convinced that no other sound could be as annoying right now. Pain radiates through her fingers from how tight she grips the Sunflower Pop. She grits her teeth against it, something has to give. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you ever worry about anything?!” Her ears instantly flatten back against her head. She nearly bits her own tongue, clamping her mouth shut the second the words come out, a second too late.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang absently draws patterns in the sand with her finger, seemingly unaffected by Blake’s words. “Of course I do. I just try not to sweat the small stuff.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a heavy sigh Blake relaxes, slowly unclenching her fingers from around the bottle in her hand. If words aren’t weapons anymore, thoughts shouldn’t be either — some relationships don’t require an arsenal. Her stress about their progress shouldn’t be a burden to anyone but herself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake fiddles with the edge of the map still sitting on her legs, taking a breath to keep her voice even. “If you were saving these to celebrate getting out of the desert, why are we drinking them now?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang’s eyes hold a depth that betrays the lightness of her words. “Sometimes you just do things because you enjoy them.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang rests her own drink in the sand, reaching for Blake’s and popping the cap while the bottle still rests on her knee. Before she pulls away, she pinches the edge of the map between her fingers, taking it with her as she sits back. “Like resting instead of looking at your map every ten minutes.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang slowly folds up the map and sets it near Blake’s tent. Picking up her drink again, she gestures it up and out as if to clink it against a glass that isn’t there. She brings it back to herself, but doesn’t put the bottle to her lips. Her eyes find Blake again, warm against the setting sun. “Or sharing a nice drink with a friend in the middle of fucking nowhere.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake breathes a sigh of relief and holds her drink out with a small smirk, “To the middle of fucking nowhere, then.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They drink the rest of their Sunflower Pops with dinner, sitting in the openings of their tents that keep getting set up closer and closer together each time they make camp. Neither of them mentions it, but Blake is sure she isn’t the only one who has noticed. The rest of the night is lit by light conversation, the anxiety of making progress fading into the darkness of night. Yang closes up her tent first, leaving Blake to bathe in the stars. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turns the cap from her now empty sunflower pop between her fingers slowly, letting the teeth press into her skin as it spins. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sometimes you just do things because you enjoy them.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It sounds so cavalier, so obvious it shouldn’t need to be said and yet Blake hasn’t considered the importance of it in years. Everything had been about survival for so long. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The simplicity of choosing joy—another thing to think about while they walk. The rustle of Yang’s sleeping bag brings Blake back to the desert. She slides the cap into the pocket of her shorts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake pulls herself into her tent, picking the map up out of the sand and stuffing it back into an outer pocket of her pack. She won’t look at it again tonight, maybe not even tomorrow. There’s a slight chill to the air, it makes snuggling into her sleeping bag even more satisfying than usual. She falls asleep the same way she has nearly every night since meeting Yang, to faint muffled music and the melody of the desert. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>By the end of the week the brown shrubbery of the desert starts to change, green speckling the landscape more each day. Small clumps of grass turn into long swaths of lumpy green moss as the sand transitions into uneven dirt. Spiney stunted trees make way for ones with large branches that reach for the sky. It takes a while to get out of the sand completely, but the change in scenery lets Blake rest a little easier. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After lunch, they come across a small stream, and Yang convinces her to take an extra fifteen minutes for their snack break to stick their feet in. The water can’t be more than two feet wide and just deep enough to make ripples against their ankles. Yang sits across from her on the other side of the stream, skimming her hand against the top of the water. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake closes her eyes, pressing her hands against the cool dirt of the bank as she breathes in the sound of the flowing water. She wiggles her toes, happy to lose some of the ache in her feet, even if it isn’t as cold as she was expecting. She’s never sat by this stream, never let this water run across her skin before, but the only thought that crosses her mind is ‘I’ve missed this’. The living touch of nature thrums in her veins like the blood that’s always been there, finding the lost pieces of herself in places she’s never been before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you really relax.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She keeps her eyes closed. A smirk curls her words, making them sound sweeter in her own ears. “It’s known to happen on occasion. We should get going though” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I shouldn’t have said a damn thing.” Yang’s laughter ricochets off the water, but she’s the first to get up and get ready. Offering a hand to Blake once her shoes are laced up again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keeping on schedule is still the most important thing, drumming at the back of her mind with every decision. Falling behind could mean not finishing at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Getting back on the trail doesn’t take long. The changing terrain requires more concentration than she anticipated as the day goes on. Exhausted, they make camp a little earlier in the afternoon than usual, happy to find the perfect spot for their tents under a cluster of mossy trees. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang spends the entirety of dinner staring up at one of the trees, strangely quiet, deep in what seems like contemplation, some kind of planning. Blake doesn’t ask. She eats her food in silence, taking the opportunity to read a book with her meal. Her eyes wander from the page often, traveling up the slope of Yang’s neck and across her strong jawline to find determined eyes that shift slowly to different points on the tree.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang drums her fingers against the small cook pot in her hands. “I think I’m gonna climb it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake holds back a chuckle with the back of her hand, her eyes widen as Yang starts to stand, almost tossing her cook pot to the side with her haste. “Yang, that’s not—” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gotta do it,” she says with a shake of her head, rubbing her hands together as she takes the few steps she needs to get to the tree.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Gods,” Blake sighs. “You know I’m not going to be able to carry you to the next town if you fall out of that thing, right?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang waves her off, eyes fixed on her target. “I’ll be fine. I’ve climbed trees way sketchier than this.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tree in question does look relatively safe, with thick, sturdy branches that curve up and out from a hefty trunk, breaking into multiple wavy branches high above their heads. The branches near the top are thin enough to have leaves, barely visible against the darkening sky. The only real hazard Blake can see is the layer of moss that's made a home on most of the bark in varying thicknesses. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang runs her hand across the top of the lowest branch. It sits level with her chest, making it easy to push her palms down on the top of it to hoist her upper body over the branch in a fluid motion, swinging a leg up over to sit comfortably. She takes a moment to wink at Blake before reaching for the next branch to continue her climb. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake scoffs, ignoring the heat that rises momentarily in her cheeks to watch Yang ascend into the tree with relative ease. She stays close to the trunk, using it for balance on occasion. The higher she gets the more the branches start to sway under her weight. There’s a pause when she reaches the spot where the trunk breaks into large branches, looking around and pushing on the smaller limbs to test their strength with a frown. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looks down at the ground for the first time since starting her climb, and Blake can hear the pout in her voice. “I think this is as high as I can go.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake thumbs the pages of her book, unable to tell how thick the moss under Yang’s feet is. “What are you going to do now?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang contemplates the question for a moment, then nods, pulling her headphones out of her back pocket and sticking them in her ears. Yang lays back against a branch, resting her hands behind her head with a shrug. “I think I’m gonna enjoy the view.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake lets out a slow breath, opting to go back to reading. Admittedly, climbing the tree does sound fun, taking in the view near the tree top even more so, but the risk isn’t worth it. The first aid kit in her pack is well stocked, but broken bones can’t be fixed on a trail. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang doesn’t start her descent until the sky fades into a dark purple above the treetops. As she moves from her perch, Blake notices that she doesn’t take out her headphones, the wire dangling out in front of her ready to catch on anything.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please be careful,” Blake calls up to her, biting back the small panic that bubbles in her throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang stops mid-climb, feet dangling, hanging from a branch with a single hand and taking out an ear bud with the other. “I couldn’t hear you, did you say come down as fast as possible?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did not!” she sputters, but can’t get another word in before a boom of laughter erupts from Yang, echoing through the trees around them. Resting her feet against the branch, she clutches her stomach with her free hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once Yang recovers she continues her climb back to the ground, taking careful, slow steps, checking her footing before letting go of the branch above her. Blake relaxes her fingers, not realizing she’d tightened her grip to the point of pain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Yang's feet touch the second to last branch Blake looks back down at her book. She’s only ten feet from the ground, she’ll be okay. Within seconds she hears a heavy thud and twigs snapping, she looks up at the tree to see Yang is no longer in it. Her eyes track down to find her sprawled in the dirt and leaves, completely still.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yang!” Blake bolts up onto her feet, closing the gap between them in seconds. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Yang wheezes, sprawled motionless on her back, “I’m good.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sits up with a wince, lifting her left arm to find a gash near her elbow. The blood stands out against the dirt caked on her skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What even happened?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My headphones got cau—” She pats the dirt around her frantically, lifting the headphones to find one smashed to pieces and the other severed, hanging by a single strand of wire. “Shit.” Yang tips her head back, letting the broken headphones fall to her lap with her hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on,” Blake offers a hand to lift her off the ground. “Let me patch up your arm.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sitting by their small fire one night, Yang pulls out her hair band so aggressively Blake hears it snap against her hand. Looking up from her journal, she halts her pen, taking in the quiet look of anguish on Yang’s face. She rakes her fingers through thick golden strands, wincing slightly when she gets to the crease made by the elastic band. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everything alright?” Blake asks. It seems harmless enough of a question given the circumstances. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’ll be okay. It just feels like my scalp is a little on fire.” Yang tips her water bottle over her head, dowsing her hair and a good part of her shirt in the process. Her shoulders slump with a sigh of relief. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang spends what feels like the next half hour carefully combing out her hair. Blake adds a few twigs to the fire as the night air starts to chill around them, scribbling a few more things in her journal before tucking it away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang turns her comb between her fingers. “Hey, Blake?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does having your hair in braids hurt?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not really. Why?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just curious,” Yang shrugs. “Wouldn’t mind a break from ponytails. Having long hair makes them pretty heavy, y’know?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you not know how to braid?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...No.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a little dark to teach you tonight, but I can braid it for you for now and show you tomorrow if you want.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. Yeah, sure, that would be nice.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake gets up and kneels behind Yang, reaching her hand out with an open palm. Yang presses the comb and the hairband down gently against her skin. She gathers Yang’s hair in her hands, running her fingers through it to break it into sections. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you usually braid your hair, like, off trail?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, not at all,” Blake chuckles. “My mom used to braid my hair every time we went camping, said it was part of the ‘camper’s code’ and we’d get in trouble if I didn’t.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you believed that?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even without being able to see Yang’s face, Blake can hear the grin in her words, feel the laughter bubbling in her chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was an only child. I didn’t exactly have a large frame of reference” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang laughs, doing her best to stay still while Blake worked her fingers through her hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a little embarrassing, but it took me years to figure out there was no ‘camper’s code’.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How long?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake scrunches her nose, “Let’s see, it started when I was seven and I didn’t figure it out until I was… thirteen.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Six years??” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was naive, alright.” Blake twists the hairband a few times, finishing the braid and smoothing it against Yang’s back. “Did your mom do this kind of stuff?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She feels Yang’s entire body go rigid, every muscle taught and unyielding. “This is something we never really got around to.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The crackle of the fire becomes the loudest sound as an awkward tension pulls at every edge of the camp. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake shifts on her knees but doesn’t move away. Over the month and a half they’d spent together Yang had only ever talked about her sister, never once mentioning her parents. It’s a gap she didn’t realize was there, but now that it’s laid in front of her it’s impossible not to notice. She raises a hand, inches from Yang’s shoulder, but pulls it away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This isn’t an opening. There’s no invitation in the admission, just a pang of something long lost, closed off, aching. Blake is all too familiar with the fine line of acknowledgement and acceptance; how one is a flame that warms you, while the other just burns. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang is the first to move, clearing her throat and standing, all while keeping her back to Blake.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be right back.” Her voice is lifeless, flattened with the same effort that curls her fingers into fists at her sides, unfurling just as quickly. “Thanks.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Blake mutters, watching Yang disappear into the trees. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Laying in their tents that night, the forest is alive with sound. Blake falls asleep to the rustling of leaves, crickets chirping, but no muffled music drifts from Yang’s tent. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Blake’s calves start to burn on their fifth day of walking on the incline. The forest floor is uneven and covered in debris they have to be constantly aware of. Even with a trail etched out of the mossy undergrowth there are plenty of rocks and fallen branches to step over and avoid. Being in the thick of the trees, it’s impossible to tell how high they have walked. The trail had taken them around the mountains and along the coastline. The smell of salt is faint this high up off the rocky shore, but it still wafts through the trees.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Within a few hours, Blake starts to hear rushing water. The trees break apart and the ground levels out, opening up to the largest waterfall she’s ever seen. There’s a natural bridge that will take them to the other side, crossing them directly in front of the waterfall carved into the cliffside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My Gods,” Yang breathes, unclipping her camera from her backpack strap.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake stops before the bridge crossing, looking down to see the large river that runs a hundred feet below. Her stomach turns to lead the same time her legs go weak. She leans against a nearby tree, trying not to look down again. She watches Yang instead, who has given every bit of her concentration to taking photos. Between moments of looking through the viewfinder on her camera, she beams, smile stretched as wide as it can go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She walks the length of the bridge on her own, taking photos of the waterfall, walking back along the other edge, taking photos of the river below and the view of the coastline they can finally see now that the trees have cleared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake is still leaned against her tree, less for support and more to relax now, still putting in the effort to not look down off the bridge. Yang clips her camera back onto her pack, taking in the sight of Blake for the first time since they’d stopped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You tired?” Yang asks, looking her over with concern.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Blake chuckles, technically she’s not tired at all. “Just wanted to give you a minute.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get everything you need?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Yang sighs, almost pouting. “I wish there was a way down to the river. I could get some really cool shots from down there.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake’s gut twists. They’ve already lost mileage to the incline they’d been walking and losing more to a detour doesn’t sit quite right, but the look on Yang’s face does something she can’t explain, something she tries not to think about. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if I told you there is a way?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang looks at her with hope and a part of Blake is untethered by it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There is?” Yang doesn’t even doubt, doesn’t question how Blake could know having never walked this trail before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on.” Blake pushes off the tree with a roll of her eyes, trying not to let her apprehension show as she crosses the bridge. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang practically floats behind her in her excitement, the clink of her bag giving her away to Blake’s ears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once they get across the bridge, it’s easy to find the trail Maria had described to her. They break through some of the underbrush on their way to the new trail head—it makes sense why it’s a secret. The trail down the rocky cliff is wide enough to walk side by side, but steeper than the trail that had brought them up through the forest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They make it down to the river bank by early afternoon. As soon as the trail levels out, Yang’s steps speed up. She takes her camera out again, walking up and down the bank to take more pictures. Occasionally she looks back at Blake, giving a nod before going back to taking pictures. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake takes off her pack, taking the time to rest near the river’s edge. She pulls food out her pack, making use of the break to eat lunch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang rejoins her, taking out her own lunch and dropping down on the bank next to her. “So, how did you know how to get down here?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you remember Maria?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like she’d ever let me forget,” Yang snorts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake laughs. “Well, after she helped me with my pack she told me about this spot, where to find the trail to get down here.” She leaves out the rest of what Maria said, but remembering the words makes heat crawl up the back of her neck to the tips of her ears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess that old lady really does know what she’s talking about.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, maybe.” Blake dips her hand into the river, pressing the cold water against the back of her neck, hoping the cool water will sooth the heat that pricks her skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once they finish lunch, they start their hike back up to the trial. The steep incline will make the trek back up longer and more difficult than the trip down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Halfway back to the trail, Blake realizes Yang hasn’t spoken since they left the river bank. Glancing over, Yang’s expression is set in stone, blank of any of the joy that had been there during their detour. Blake finds herself missing Yang while she’s less than a foot away. They walk a little longer in silence, Blake spends the whole time trying to think of something to ask, something less intrusive than ‘what’s wrong,’ something light hearted, something to bring back the joy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How many battery packs did you bring for your camera?” Blake scolds herself. This has to be the dumbest question she’s ever asked. She’d gotten better at pulling herself out of her own mind, but doing it for someone else is so strange it feels like wearing her shoes on the wrong feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes a few steps for Yang to hear the question, but stone shifts to something softer as she comes back to herself, a glint of joy in her eye, but nowhere near the shine that was there before. “I brought three, just to make sure I’d always have a charge.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They have small, short conversations as they keep walking, making it back to the main trail with a few hours until sunset. The weak smile stays on Yang’s face for the rest of their walk, but it’s unwavering, like Yang is putting in effort to keep it glued in place.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-- </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Over the next week Yang starts to wake up a little later than normal. A few times, Blake has to wake her up herself after she’s finished her morning tea. She’s slower to pick up conversations, but still able to hold them, less attentive to most everything in their path. She takes less pictures, lets her camera sit like an anchor against her chest as they walk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes she will resurface, eye bright like there’s nothing clouding her mind, but it never lasts for more than a few hours. Blake starts to worry, but doesn’t know how to bring it up. Doesn’t know how to ask someone if they’re breaking into pieces right in front of her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake sits and watches the sunrise one morning later in the week, wondering if she’s the reason Yang is growing distant. If she’d done something to push her away without even knowing. He’d always said she ruined everything she touched. She’d spent months convincing herself she didn’t have a poison thumb, but watching Yang slowly wilt gives her doubts she thought she’d long since buried. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The orange wash of sunrise falls away as she takes her last few sips of tea. They’d need to start walking soon to stay on pace, with Yang sleeping in they’d lost a few miles over the last few days. Blake wants to be bothered by the loss, but she can’t make herself, at least not while she’s looking at Yang.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As if on command, Yang zips open her tent, looking out at Blake with half lidded eyes before flopping back down into her sleeping bag. Even after a night of sleep the exhaustion threads through her voice, pulling down each syllable. “Mornin’, Blake.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Morning, Yang,” Blake says. “Want some coffee?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds great. I’ll take a quad shot with cream and two sugars.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A quad shot? You have an addiction and we should really talk about it at some point.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang just groans. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One blacker than black coffee coming up.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re the best. I’ll make breakfast just as soon as I can get up.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time the coffee is brewed Yang has made it out of her tent and prepped breakfast to go on the fire. Blake pulls the coffee off the flame and sets it aside to cool, the bitter smell pulls a sneer onto her lips as it passes her nose. Yang smirks but doesn’t say a word, setting the cook pot in the place the coffee had been. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Packing up camp is a routine that doesn’t take them long, even if Yang is moving slower than usual, and they make it out onto the trail before the sun starts to warm the air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The forest had grown more dense the farther they got from the waterfall, making the path less clear to the eye. They spend most of the day stepping around fallen branches and thick underbrush. Yang stays quiet again, which leaves Blake to her thoughts from this morning. Doubt digs into her like long forgotten claws, pulling her focus away from the obstacles in their path.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t feel the stick snap under her foot, only hears it. What she does feel is the end of the stick stabbing into her calf seconds after it snaps. Blake makes a sound somewhere between a swear and a yelp and stops in her tracks, lifting her leg on instinct and pushing herself off balance. Yang turns on a dime and catches Blake by her arms before she falls. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think so.” Blake looks down at her leg and lets out a sigh when she sees a stream of blood running down the length of her calf. “It’s fine. I’ll bandage it when we stop for the day.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re kidding, right?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Blake.” Yang’s voice is soft, “Come on.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake’s shoulder slump. “We still have so much ground to cover today. I don’t want to fall behind.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “It won’t take long. I promise.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But—” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I let you patch me up, remember? Which means I get to tend to yours, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake pauses, staring at Yang as she moves off of the trail, so unused to someone being genuinely concerned for her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang waves over to a fallen log. “Let’s go.” </span>
  <span>Saying no to Yang is proving to be more and more difficult, but it’s impossible when there’s so much care in her voice. Yang is present in this moment , none of the fog clouding her eyes like it had been, and that’s enough to quiet the doubts for now. That Yang is there just for </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake drops herself onto the fallen tree, not even taking the time to take off her pack, crossing her arms in silent protest, still put off by stopping at all. Yang tries and fails to hide a small smile, walking over to take Blake’s first aid kit out of the side pocket of her pack. She rests Blake’s foot on her knee, ripping open a disinfectant wipe packet quickly. The wipe is cold against her skin. Blake grits her teeth against the sting when Yang swipes it over the cut. Maybe it is a good thing that they stopped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang presses a patch of gauze to the cut, using her other hand to wrap a bandage around her leg to hold it in place. Yang’s fingers are gentle, soft against her skin, nimble in a way that speaks to experience. Blake thinks of the stories about Ruby, wonders if Yang has always patched the wounds of others while ignoring her own. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The look of concentration on Yang’s face doesn’t match the ease with which she finishes wrapping Blake’s leg. With her hand resting on the bandages Yang looks up at her, a glint of pain reflecting in her eyes. “Sometimes the pain isn’t worth the progress, Blake.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The words are weighted with something Blake doesn’t quite understand. Something that feels like shackles even if she can’t see them. A rushing river that only offers momentary clarity of what rests below the surface. Maybe some day the water will still and she’ll see what the weight in those words really mean, but for now she just rests her hand against Yang’s, hoping it speaks louder than anything she could say. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A burning, itching sensation rips Blake from sleep a few days later, demanding her full attention. Shifting slightly in her sleeping bag only makes her leg burn worse, the bandage rubs uncomfortably against the cut healing underneath. Now is not the time. She grits her teeth against the itch, willing it to go away. If she lays still enough maybe she’ll just fall back asleep. That’s when she hears it. </p>
<p>A small sniffle, barely audible over the crackle of fire. The light from the flames flicker across her tent, making it easy to find the zipper of the door and slowly pull it open. </p>
<p>Yang looks small. More fragile than she’s ever been in Blake’s eyes, arms curled around her legs that are pressed to her chest. Her chin resting against a knee as she stares into the flames of the small fire in front of her. Blake slowly climbs out of her tent. Yang doesn’t look up, doesn’t seem to notice anything at all. </p>
<p>It’s not until Blake sits next to her that Yang stirs. Finally lifting glassy eyes from the flames, she turns toward the trees and away from Blake, not so discreetly wiping at her face before stretching out from her crumpled position. When she finally faces Blake the layer of composure in her voice is thin and the smile she forces onto her lips is brittle, sure to crack with the slightest pressure. “Hey.” </p>
<p>“Hey.” Blake apprehensively grips her arm, wondering just how deep the cracks will go. “Having trouble sleeping?” </p>
<p>As Yang turns her gaze back to the flames she shrugs, mechanical, unnaturally forced. “Just haven’t made it to bed yet.” She watches the small embers pop and crackle, entranced by the ripples of heat and the glow that make shadows dance against the trees around them. </p>
<p>Blake doesn’t watch the fire; she looks at Yang instead. At the way the amber light washes over her face, expressionless and fixed. She doesn’t have bags under her eyes, but the exhaustion is etched into her in other ways, the tired slump of her shoulders, the way everything about her is muted, dull, even in the burning light of the fire. </p>
<p>A branch splinters in the heat of the coals, making a loud crack that causes both of them to flinch. It jolts Yang out of her trance, she looks at Blake like she’s seeing her for the first time that night, lilac eyes hardened and glazed over. “Did I wake you?” </p>
<p>“No.” Thinking about why she’s awake brings the burning sensation back to the front of her mind. Her fingers flex with the effort it takes not to scratch at her leg, “I think I need to change this bandage.” </p>
<p>“Let me.” Yang is up and rummaging through her pack before Blake can protest, pulling out the small first aid kit Maria had recommended. She drops herself back in front of the fire, patting her knee, an invitation for Blake to prop her own leg against it. </p>
<p>Blake looks from Yang’s knee up to her face. Her eyes have softened a little, but are still void of any real emotion. She’s already dealing with enough, why add to it? “I can take care of it, you really don’t have to.” </p>
<p>Yang’s hands are still on top of the first aid kit. “Blake, it’s in an awkward spot for you. Please?”</p>
<p>Blake sets her heel up on Yang’s knee with a huff. She is right. “Fine.”</p>
<p>Yang starts to unravel the old bandage with gentle fingers, taking a break halfway through unraveling to rub at one of her eyes. Her movements are sluggish, but methodical, focused as she was the first time she bandaged the cut.  </p>
<p>“Are you okay?” Blake asks before she can stop herself.</p>
<p>“Yeah. Just tired,” she says with a weary smile, not looking up from her task. “Having music helps me sleep, it’s a little rough without it.” </p>
<p>“The next town is pretty small, but you might be able to find some replacement headphones.” </p>
<p>“Maybe,” Yang sighes. </p>
<p>She looks an inch from breaking. There’s a slight tremble in her fingers as she grazes them over the edge of the cut. When she leans back and lets out a puff of air Blake sees it for just a moment, her mask slips, the sadness etched into the lines of her face, the turmoil that floods her eyes, but it’s locked away again almost as quickly as it appeared. Her voice is hollow. “It needs to breathe for a little while. I’ll rewrap it in a bit.” </p>
<p>Blake pulls her leg away, twisting to face the fire and sit shoulder to shoulder with Yang. The silence that sits between them is deafening. She’d always enjoyed the quiet, but now it feels like saying anything would be better than this. “Do you have a first aid certification I don’t know about?” </p>
<p>Yang lifts her left arm off of her knee briefly, letting the glow of the fire play off of silvery skin before resting it back down. “Experience really is the best teacher, unfortunately.”</p>
<p>Blake’s ears pin back. “Sorry, I didn’t—” </p>
<p>“It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Yang runs her hand across her arm absentmindedly. “Most people just ask outright, but you never have.” </p>
<p>“It seemed personal,” Blake shrugs. Not that they hadn’t shared plenty of other personal things during their time together, but in her experience scars don’t come with stories that are easy to tell. </p>
<p>Yang sighs, poking the end of a small stick into the fire. “I used to have a motorcycle.” The barest hint of a smile touches her lips. “She was a nice one too, drove her all the way to Vacuo when I left home.” </p>
<p>Blake holds back a smile of her own. “<em> She </em>?” </p>
<p>A flash of Yang appears, boisterous and strong, smaller than normal, but the glow in her eyes could rival the fire that burns in front of them. “Yes. Her name was Bumblebee and she was magnificent.” </p>
<p>Blake giggles.  </p>
<p>Yang’s laugh is still a ghost of what it usually is, but it’s no less beautiful in Blake’s ears. “I’m getting distracted. Anyway...” She shakes her head. Her eyes dart up to the tree branches, but don’t stay there for long. “I, uh, I wrecked pretty good one night. Walked away from it, but not without a souvenir.” </p>
<p>“And Bumblebee?” </p>
<p>“Didn’t make it. She was old. My mom got her when we were really young.” Yang takes a moment, when she finally speaks her words are measured, factual, void of the joy Blake expects to be there. “Summer loved to take us on rides.” </p>
<p>Blake lifts a brow, curious about so many things she settles on something neutral. “Your mom drove a motorcycle?” </p>
<p>“Yeah. She did.” </p>
<p>“Did she teach you how to ride?” </p>
<p>“No. She passed about a year before I was old enough.” She stabs the end of the stick into the fire again, this time knocking a small log loose. The pile topples in on itself, sending a flurry of sparks into the air. Yang stares into the coals. While her face gives nothing away, her voice waivers. “Cancer. It was quick.” </p>
<p>Blake holds her breath, she’d spent so long idly thinking about the words Yang didn’t say and now so much of it makes sense. She rests her palm on Yang’s wrist, running her thumb over the back of her hand. Yang slowly lets go of the stick, letting her hand go limp against her knee. </p>
<p>“They told us months, maybe a year,” she says, doing everything she can to hold on to the mask she’s been wearing. “It ended up being weeks. There was nothing we could...I could…” Yang’s fists clench, knuckles turning bone white under the strain. </p>
<p>Her eyes shine, the flames make shadows flicker in her hair, outlining her body in a soft light while she burns alongside the fire. </p>
<p>“I had never considered that she could die,” she continues, shaking her head. “At fifteen I was not— gods, prepared doesn’t even begin to cover it. I was angry, the kind of angry that seeps into your bones, the kind you can taste on your tongue.” On a shaky inhale she uncurls her fingers slowly, forcing them flat against her legs. “I couldn’t believe it, that she’d really be gone.”</p>
<p>Blake watches her take slow breaths until they even out. Unsure if Yang will say more, she waits, listening to the sounds of the cicadas and all the other things that come to life in the woods at night.  </p>
<p>“I’m pretty sure that Ruby spent every single day with her in that hospital room. I don’t know for sure, but every time I managed to make myself go — she was there. A hell of a way to spend a summer vacation. Dad tried to be there too, but he still had to work.”</p>
<p>Yang’s hands start to tremble. Blake takes one and holds it between both of hers, an anchor to cling to in rough waters. Yang looks at her with the sudden shift, a ghost of a smile crosses her lips.</p>
<p>“Ruby made sure I was there for her last moments. We both curled up with her on that hospital bed. She was pretty delirious from the pain meds by then, but I think she saw us. Really saw us. She didn’t have much strength left, she held us the best she could and we tried not to put too much weight on her. She--” Her voice catches on the words, but she pushes through, a few small tears escaping to run down her cheeks. “She told us to take care of each other, that it was the most important thing we could do.” </p>
<p>Yang uses her free hand to brush the tears from her cheek, clearing her throat with a renewed sense of determination. “And we did. We took care of each other. Taking care of Ruby was a great excuse to ignore the fact that I had to grieve, even more so when dad let himself be consumed by it. He did his best, managed to keep everything running, but he was more of an empty shell than a parent.”</p>
<p>“Let himself?” Blake had never known grief to give anyone a choice. </p>
<p>“Okay, that was a little harsh. He had his reasons. Turns out that Summer wasn’t my birth mom, only Ruby’s.” Yang looks into the fire again, swallowing back the bit of bitterness in her voice. “My birth mom left him right after I was born, but after years of Summer raising me, there was no way to make her being gone hurt any less.” </p>
<p>The chill of the nighttime air finally catches up with Blake as the fire shrinks in on itself. She shifts a little closer to the flames while still keeping a steady hold on Yang’s hand. </p>
<p>“I couldn’t stop myself the day of the funeral.” Yang’s eyes leave the fire and find Blake’s hands clasped around her own. The sadness in them tightens Blake’s grip. “I’d never felt so helpless, so ready to give up. I snuck off as soon as I could. Stole the bottle of whiskey dad kept for special occasions. I drank the whole thing sitting on the beach in the dark, watching the waves. I don’t remember the rest, but I woke up in the sand the next morning.”</p>
<p>Yang goes quiet, getting lost in the memory. Blake recognizes the slack in her jaw and the distance in her eyes as something she used to see in the mirror, something that used to haunt her, too. </p>
<p>“After that I swore I’d hold it together, for Ruby, so I did,” she sighs, “Buried all of it. It took all the strength I had. Once she got early acceptance into college, I told myself my job was done. Packed a bag, moved to Vacuo to fall apart in peace, make every mistake I could. After being there for a while I found out my birth mom was still alive, but I just couldn’t. I’d already lost so much. If I’d reached out and she’d left just like...” Yang’s shoulders slump forward, defeated. “I wasn’t strong enough.” </p>
<p>“You don’t always have to be strong. Sometimes you need to let it hurt to be able to move on.” Blake moves to meet her eyes. “Acceptance is it’s own kind of strength.” </p>
<p>“It’s been 5 years. I still haven’t been able to put myself back together.” Yang lets out a breath and with it silent tears stream down her face. “Just... so many mistakes.” </p>
<p>Blake has never wanted to say so much in her life, but none of it comes out. She wraps her arms around Yang’s waist, half throwing herself onto her in haste. Yang arms circle her just as quickly, holding her close as the sobs finally break free. Her face stays buried in the crook of Blake’s neck until the sobs wracking her body slow to gentle hiccups. </p>
<p>Yang shifts her hand to Blake’s shoulders, pulling her away gently. “Blake, hey, your leg.” </p>
<p>As soon as Yang says it, she feels the sharp stink that radiates from her calf. Looking down, she sees that in the shuffle to hug Yang, she ripped the cut open again. </p>
<p>She sits back, letting Yang take her leg and prop it against her knee again. Yang takes a moment to wipe her eyes before opening up a fresh bandage. Her hands are steady and a small calm washes over her face as she wraps the bandage around Blake’s leg. She catches Yang’s hand before she pulls away. “You’re stronger than you think you are.” She fights the tremble in her own voice. “You have been to me.” </p>
<p>The small smile that grows on Yang’s face brings a touch of warmth back to her eyes. </p>
<p>“Are you going to be able to sleep?” </p>
<p>“Yeah. I think so.” </p>
<p>Blake starts to push dirt into the fire to douse the flames while Yang crawls into her tent. Blake sits in the dark for a while, waiting to hear Yang’s breathing even out with sleep before going back to her own tent. </p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>—</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>Yang expects to meet regretful eyes when she opens her tent the next morning. Sitting in her sleeping bag, she can’t help but wonder if what she’d said the night before scared Blake off completely. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been ‘too much’ for someone. She steels herself against the sunlight that bleeds through the thin material of her tent, a sign that the sun has already risen, that Blake is waiting for her — if she’s lucky. </p>
<p>And she is. Blake sits with a book in her lap and a mug of warm tea cupped in both hands like she has every morning since they’d met. The unease that had knotted in Yang’s shoulders melts away the moment Blake looks up at her with warm amber eyes. Not an ounce of regret shines through and Yang breathes easier as she starts to cook breakfast for them both. </p>
<p>She finds out the next night that sleep will still be hard to come by, which isn’t a surprise. One emotional confession isn’t going to take away the ache in her chest. The difference now is that she starts to let it be there, doesn’t try to drown it or smother it, just sits with it — side by side with Summer, just how they used to be. The first few nights are just as bad as the one in the desert. </p>
<p>She moves around in her sleeping bag restlessly and knows Blake can hear it, but in the morning Blake never mentions it. She just offers a kind smile and a cup of coffee. Yang is thankful for both. </p>
<p>After one particularly fitful night of sleep, the trees start to blur together as they walk. The coffee does nothing to lift the groggy weight of her eyelids. When she hears rushing water she wonders if she’s dreaming, but as the trees clear she realizes she isn’t. </p>
<p>The river spans at least thirty feet wide, rushing water breaks and glides over large slate rocks. Some stand out of the water, others sit just below the surface making slopes and dips in the current. Blake reaches the edge first, stopping to look up and down the river. </p>
<p>“We should cross below these rocks to avoid the current. We don’t know how deep it is.” She says against the roar of the water.</p>
<p>Yang shrugs, “Works for me.” </p>
<p>By the time they are halfway across, the water reaches Yang’s mid thigh and the chill has more than woken her up. The river bottom quelshes under her feet, mucky sediment with the occasional slippery rock makes the walk more treacherous than she expected. Not to mention the current that steadily pushes against her making each step forward a best guess that she can’t see. </p>
<p>The large rocks they cross downstream of give them a momentary break from the current, but Blake’s first step out from behind them isn’t as steady as her previous ones. Blake and her pack start to sink into the water as she’s swept up in the current. </p>
<p>“Blake!” Before she can think, Yang reaches out and catches her arm, pulling Blake against her with enough force to slam them both back into the rock behind them. </p>
<p>Between the sudden impact with the rock against her back and Blake pressed against her chest, Yang struggles to take in a big enough breath. Her fingers flex around Blake’s wrist trapped between them, feeling her body heat through the cool water that clings to her clothes. </p>
<p>“Are you okay?” Yang’s words are almost a whisper, husky with the lack of breath. </p>
<p>Blake pulls away enough to look into Yang’s eyes, a small smile cracks her lips. Yang can feel her chuckle and she has to focus to hear Blake’s words. “Thanks to you.”</p>
<p>Yang’s mouth goes dry; they are way too close together all of a sudden, but she can’t move. Blake doesn’t either and Yang could swear she sees Blake’s eyes flick down, but with the lack of sleep it could just be wishful thinking. “Blake?” </p>
<p>She steps away slowly and Yang let’s her hand drop from her wrist. Blake looks toward the river bank, “I think the current just took me by surprise. We should get across so we can dry off.” </p>
<p>Yang nods, finally able to take in a full breath of air.</p>
<p>She watches Blake write in her journal a few nights later, trying her best not to be too obvious as she takes in the soft lines of her face as her pen scratches the page. Blake looks at peace when she writes, more than she does with her morning cup of tea or curled up by the fire with a book. “Can I ask you something?” </p>
<p>She sets her pen in her journal and closes the cover, giving her undivided attention to Yang. “Sure.” </p>
<p>“What do you write about?” </p>
<p>“I write about a lot of things.” She flushes a little, picking at the edge of the journal before continuing. “Sometimes it’s just a recap of my day. Sometimes I write to my parents. Other times I write about the past, sometimes it’s the future.” She shrugs, “It just depends on what comes to mind.” </p>
<p>“Hmm.” Yang busies herself with adding a few sticks to the fire. “It just comes to you?” </p>
<p>“It didn’t at first.” Blake smiles, running her hand across the cover. “Like anything worth doing, it took practice.” </p>
<p>Yang goes to her tent a little earlier that night, pulling a small leather bound journal from deep inside her pack. A gift from Ruby for the hike, she runs her fingers across the front and lifts the cover open, having never looked inside she finds a note scribbled on the first page. </p>
<p>
  <em> Write it all down so you don’t forget. I’m expecting stories when you get home. Love you. </em>
</p>
<ul>
<li><em>Ruby</em></li>
</ul>
<p>She smiles down at the page. <em> Home </em>. Vale has never been Yang’s home, but she knows that isn’t what Ruby means. The years apart feel like a cavern, one she’d dug herself the day she packed a duffle bag and drove away from Patch. One she’d kept digging when she made excuses for why she wouldn’t be home for the next holiday and why Ruby couldn’t come to Vacuo — always careful not to use the same one twice. Through all of it Ruby always kept in touch, always made the effort, even when Yang couldn’t. She presses her fingers to the ink. It doesn’t matter where she is, Ruby will always be home. </p>
<p>She uncaps her pen and flips to the next page. Debating what to write for what feels like an hour, her mind is as blank as the page. She scribbles <em> love you too </em> under Ruby’s note and puts the journal in an outer pocket of her pack. Sleep comes a little easier that night. </p>
<p>As the trees start to thin out she tries to convince Blake to climb one with her. They sit under a large mossy tree during one of their afternoon breaks. Yang sits against the trunk while Blake sits on a stump close by. Glancing up at the branches, a grin cracks across Yang’s face. “You know, this one would be easy. I’ll even give you a boost.” </p>
<p>Blake doesn’t look up from her book. “Absolutely not.” </p>
<p>Yang settles into her spot against the trunk, knowing this argument will have no chance, but happy to try anyway. “Come on, this one’s like a beginner's tree.” </p>
<p>Blake chuckles, taking a moment to mark her page before looking up. “Who says I’m a beginner?” </p>
<p>“Do you have some tree climbing championship title I haven’t heard about?” </p>
<p>Blake closes the cover of her book. “You know, there is a summer festival on Menagerie that has palm tree climbing races, winners get a pretty sizable cash prize.” </p>
<p>Yang sits straight up, wide eyed with excitement. “Oh, no way! You can climb a palm tree?” </p>
<p>Blake lazily looks up at the branches, stands and puts her book back in her pack. She lets out a sigh before a small smirk forms on her lips. “We should really get back on the trail,” she says, turning on her heel and walking full stride back onto the path. </p>
<p>“Blake, you can’t just drop that kind of information and walk away!” she shouts, rushing to put her pack on and scrambling back onto the trail to catch up. </p>
<p>She never gets her answer, but the smiles that lights up Blake’s face for the rest of the day is worth more. </p>
<p>Each night she sits in her tent, lantern on and pen pressed to paper. At first it’s only a few sentences a night, most of them are about her day. Things that happen on the trail, many of those sentences include Blake. Some days she doesn’t write anything at all, caught in the snare of thoughts she still can’t put on the page. </p>
<p>Those nights are often restless. Yang doesn’t find sleep quickly and when she does, it’s choppy and uneven. She wakes up exhausted, bloodshot eyes and aching muscles that make hiking all day even more tiring than usual. </p>
<p>She knows Blake can see it, and wishes against everything that she couldn’t. Part of her wonders if there will be a day she wakes up to an empty campsite. If there will be a point when Blake can’t watch her struggle anymore and decides they are both better off alone. </p>
<p>Yang rests heavy against her pack after they stop for the night, eyes burning from the lack of sleep the night before. Usually she’d set up her tent and start on dinner, but any kind of movement feels almost impossible. She only finds out she’d dozed off with her head rested against her pack when Blake gently shakes her awake.</p>
<p>She groggily takes in her surroundings. The sun has started to set and Blake’s tent is already set up. Blake sits in front of her camp stove, tending to the pot that rests on top of it. “How long was I out?” </p>
<p>“About half an hour,” Blake says lightly, keeping her focus on the food she’s cooking. </p>
<p>Yang uncurls her arms from around her pack, muscles tense from the odd sleeping position. It takes longer to get up than she’d like. Setting up her own tent is luckily something so second nature by now that she can almost do it with her eyes closed. By the time she’s finished, Blake hands her a bowl, and the warmth from it soothes some of the ache in Yang’s hands. </p>
<p>She drops herself in front of the opening to her tent, only a few feet away from where Blake sits in front of hers. A small pang of guilt shoots through her. Cooking has been the way she’s been able to pay Blake back for her patience. For letting Yang sleep in even though getting an earlier start would be better for the pace Blake was always so keen to focus on, but an apology would only be a catalyst for a conversation she isn’t ready to have. “Thank you for making dinner.” </p>
<p>Blake looks up from her book, shadows from the setting sun bleeding through the tree branches laying delicately against dark skin. “You’ve made dinner nearly every night since we met. I’m happy to do it every once in a while.” She smiles. “Or even more often if you need a break.” </p>
<p>“I don’t need a break. I like cooking.” <em> For you. </em>The part of the thought she doesn’t say. She looks down at her bowl, hoping Blake doesn’t notice the red that no doubt tints her cheeks. </p>
<p>After sitting with her memories for long enough, the sting they used to cause becomes a much more manageable ache, and ink starts to flow on paper. Now it’s full pages written in a night rather than just a few sentences. Some memories are easier to recall than others, easier to write out in detail and even include some of the emotions that come along with them. Restless nights come fewer and farther between, but she feels more prepared for them now. </p>
<p>With the forest behind them, they walk through large swaths of tall grass that offer little in the way of shade. It’s reminiscent of the desert, flat and vaste with little to see if you aren’t looking hard enough. Her camera still gets plenty of use. The way the tall grass sways in the wind like the sea can’t be captured in a picture, but that doesn’t make the still image any less beautiful. </p>
<p>One night, they make camp on a small patch of grass surrounded by wildflowers. Blake sits in the opening of her tent after dinner reading a new book. Yang lays flat in the grass and picks a small flower, twirling the stem between her fingers. She watches the way Blake’s ears twitch and how her brow furrows at certain passages, the way she starts to turn some pages before she’s done reading them, holding it away from the rest of the book while her eyes travel across the last of the words. Blake glances up at her unexpectedly and Yang’s eyes dart back to the flower in her hand, seemingly too late. </p>
<p>“Do you want to borrow one?” </p>
<p>“What?” </p>
<p>“A book?” She raises hers in the air slightly. “That’s what you were looking at right?” </p>
<p>“Oh, sure.” She breathes a sigh of relief as Blake rummages through her pack for another book. </p>
<p>Later that night, instead of her journal, she opens the book Blake lent her. The spine is cracked and the pages are well worn--it must be one of her favorites. Yang settles into her sleeping bag, a small smile grows as she starts to turn the pages. There may be something to learn about someone from the stories they hold dear. </p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>—</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>The prairie town of Sanatuli is one of the smallest trail towns according to Blake’s trail guide. She makes a habit of flipping through it as they approach each town, reading the important information to Yang or sometimes reciting it from memory. Yang sees a cluster of small buildings in the distance the next morning. The flatlands don’t leave any room to hide, but the buildings don’t grow much in size as they get closer. </p>
<p>Walking into town feels more like walking into a large campground, which in a way, is exactly what it is.</p>
<p>They are greeted with kind words and waves from strangers, other hikers that sit around small fire pits scattered across the campground. The check-in station is a small counter in the middle of an alley of food stalls. The man that stands behind the counter towers over them, his lips set in an unimpressed line while he rests his hands idly against the countertop.</p>
<p>“What can I do for you?” His voice is gentler than his stature makes Yang expect. </p>
<p>“Just need to rent a spot to camp for a few days,” Blake says.</p>
<p>Yang leans closer to the man, keeping a slightly hushed tone to ask, “Which is the best food stand around here?” </p>
<p>He hands a clipboard to Blake, still looking at Yang with a small smirk. “Coco’s, and she’ll be happy to tell you all about it.” </p>
<p>Once their tents are pitched they make their way over to Coco’s. It’s the largest stand by far, and every picnic table that sits in front of it is packed full. They find two seats at the counter instead. Yang watches in awe as the prep cook cuts vegetables with deadly speed and precision. It’s not that she’s never seen someone wield a knife with such skill, it’s the fact that the man appears to be blind. </p>
<p>A tall woman in a chef's coat and sunglasses saunters over, setting a hand on the counter in front of them. “How are we doing today ladies?” </p>
<p>“Good.” Yang points her thumb back to the check-in stand. “Heard from the big guy you’ve got the best food in town.” </p>
<p>She smirks, “You heard right. Yatsu is an honest man with good taste.” </p>
<p>“A friend of yours then?” </p>
<p>“Of course, but we became friends <em> after </em> he tried my food,” she says with bravado. Leaning closer and resting her elbows on the counter her voice takes on a more passionate focus. “You see, feeding people is one of the best ways to really share who you are with someone. If you cook with passion, you are putting yourself in every single dish, picking pieces of your past to inform the plate lets a person see into how the world made you into who you are, how your experiences inform every future decision that led you to this moment in time, this—”</p>
<p>A brunette with rabbit ears comes up behind the woman and presses a hand to her shoulder. “Coco, honey, you’re going to scare away your customers.” </p>
<p>A smile replaces her look of determination as she recognizes the voice, completely unbothered by the interruption. Coco turns her head to face the woman touching her. “Velv, come on, I was just getting to the good part.”</p>
<p>The woman rolls her eyes, pulling her hand away from Coco’s shoulder. Before she walks away, she quickly swipes the sunglasses off of Coco’s face and puts them on her own. </p>
<p>Coco scoffs, but fondly watches her walk away. Pulling out an identical pair of sunglasses and putting them on, she says, “Neither of you strike me as the kind of people that are scared away by a little passion.” </p>
<p>Yang feels heat flood her face. Knowing Coco is talking about the passion for her work does nothing to move the association of the word away from Blake in her mind. She doesn’t dare glance at Blake, sure she’ll give herself away. So Yang keeps her eyes on Coco and burns silently on her bar stool.  </p>
<p>Coco turns her head back toward the line. “Fox, prep me two of today’s special on the fly.” </p>
<p>Fox hands off a bowl to another cook, smirking in no particular direction. “Sure thing. I’ll even do it with my eyes closed.” </p>
<p>“I’ll be back with your food in a little bit, but I promise it will be worth the wait.” She starts to walk away but doubles back. “Names? Just to keep track of the orders.” </p>
<p>“Blake.” </p>
<p>“Yang,” she blurts out, too loud and stilted in her own ears. </p>
<p>Blake turns to her after Coco has made her way out of earshot. “Are you okay?” </p>
<p>“Yeah. Just hungry,” she lies. </p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>—</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>The next night, all the stalls close down early and the whole town gathers around a bonfire so tall it touches the stars. Coco told them it happens once a month during trail season, that how most of the people living here only stay during the warm months of the year to work and the rest of the year it’s boarded up. Meaning most of the people that work here see it as a vacation from their normal lives. </p>
<p>Yang weaves her way through the clusters of people, the laughter and chatter swirling around her while she takes pictures. Mostly of the bonfire itself, but sometimes of the shadows it casts on the rows of tents and food stalls. In the search for good photography subjects, she walks past Blake and Velvet a few times. Each time she passes, she catches a little bit of their conversation, something to do with space necromancers. She doesn’t hear much else, but wonders if it’s one of the many books Blake has stowed in her pack. </p>
<p>She moves closer to the fire than anyone has chosen to stand. The heat of the flames burns against her skin as she raises her camera to take a close up of the coals. She nearly drops it when she hears a voice come from directly behind her. </p>
<p>“You get any good shots of your girlfriend?” </p>
<p>“Blake? She’s not…” Yang sputters, taking a moment to breathe before she continues. “We’re just friends. We met on the trail before getting to Gossan.” </p>
<p>She lets her camera hang from the neck strap and steps away from the fire, hoping the heat of the flames hides the blush that creeps onto her cheeks. Coco doesn’t seem entirely convinced.</p>
<p>“That’s a lot of miles to walk with someone you met on trail.” Coco crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow. “How far do you plan to go together?” </p>
<p>Yang rubs the back of her neck, “Well, uh, we haven’t really talked about it.” </p>
<p>“All that time walking and you haven’t talked about how long you’re staying together?” Coco leans back on her heel, casually awaiting the answer as if she’d asked something simple. </p>
<p>In some ways, it is just as simple as Coco makes it seem, but each time it has crossed Yang’s mind, she’s stayed silent. “It’s complicated,” she sighs.</p>
<p>“Walking is complicated?” </p>
<p>“No. Just...” Yang looks toward Blake and Velvet, only now realizing that they might be able to hear every word. She steps a little closer to Coco. “Everything else is.” </p>
<p>Coco catches on quickly and guides them both to the other side of the bonfire, not entirely out of view from the other pair, but far enough that the crowd and the sound of the fire will mask anything she doesn’t want them to hear. “But you want to keep walking with her, right?” </p>
<p>Yang gives a weak nod. Wanting to keep walking with Blake isn’t a question, but doubt has a way of creeping in whether she wants it to or not. “I don’t have a great track record with people sticking around.” </p>
<p>“Has she given you any reason to think she wants to leave?”</p>
<p>Yang hesitates--it’s not the question she expects and definitely not the one she’s prepared for. “Well, no.” </p>
<p>“That’s a good sign,” she chuckles. “And how about the ‘just friends’ thing?” </p>
<p>“Nothing’s happened.” </p>
<p>A smile spreads across her face, almost smug. “Not what I asked.” </p>
<p>“I don’t know how she feels. I just...” Yang sighs, “I don’t want her to be temporary…” </p>
<p>Coco stays quiet for a while, looking around at the groups scattered across the campground. Once her eyes make it back to Yang, she has the same determination in them that she did the first time they’d met. “Yang. Can I give you some advice you didn’t ask for?” </p>
<p>Yang fiddles with the edge of her camera, working to keep the desperation out of her voice. “Will it help?” </p>
<p>“Maybe,” Coco laughs.</p>
<p>“Okay.” </p>
<p>“Everything is temporary.” She shrugs. “This fire. The camp. My renowned food stall. Even Velvet. All of it, but that doesn’t make it any less important to me.” </p>
<p>Yang glances over Coco’s shoulder. Velvet and Blake still sit on their bench, totally enraptured in conversation just like they were when Yang walked by them earlier. </p>
<p>Coco continues, “Some of the best things in life have expiration dates. Velvet could decide tomorrow that she doesn’t want to spend five months out of the year in a tiny prairie town serving food to smelly hikers. She could leave at any time, but that’s okay.” </p>
<p>Her eyes dart back to Coco, brows furrowed. “How is that okay?” </p>
<p>“Because every day I spend with her is worth all the ones I don’t.” </p>
<p>“Oh.” </p>
<p>“I’m not saying I understand your hang-ups.” Coco pats her shoulder. “Just think about all the things you might lose if you’re too afraid to reach for them.” </p>
<p>Coco walks away. Yang doesn’t see where she goes, too caught up in her thoughts to consider anything else. She meanders around the campground while the fire still burns bright and the festivities thrive all around her. Her camera stays untouched around her neck for the rest of the night. She can’t think to look for good pictures while she weighs every memory of Summer against the pain of losing her. If every day with her was worth the ones she was gone. She doesn’t find an answer, and isn’t sure she has to. </p>
<p>Laying in her tent that night she thinks of Blake. Of Coco’s words that hadn’t left her mind all night. If she can really take the risk, to rely on someone else to be there even if it’s only temporary. If loving Blake only for a little while would be enough. She doesn’t find an answer, but she gets close before she drifts off to sleep. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A few weeks after they leave Sanatuli, Yang sets an alarm for a few minutes before sunrise. She hasn’t heard the unnatural chime of the alarm in months so, in the last few minutes of darkness of early morning, she sits up with a jolt in her sleeping bag. She relaxes when she remembers her own plan. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her hands slip on the morning dew that clings to her tent as she steps out into the grass. They’d found a small meadow to make camp the night before. The horizon line is easy to see with the lack of trees. Tall patches of grass sway in a gentle breeze that nips at Yang’s nose. She’d never been one to be bothered by the cold, but her nerves feel closer to the surface of her skin this morning. Everything is more alive in the dawn, even her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the sun crests over the horizon line, Yang closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and feels the first rays of light warm her face. She thinks back to the porch of her childhood home on Patch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Summer sits between her and Ruby, eyes closed, wearing a smile that makes the rising sun in front of them look dull and muted. Yang mimics the motion, wondering what her mother finds in these moments. The question springs out of her the second Summer opens her eyes. She’s met with a small chuckle and a reassuring arm that pulls her close. Her mother’s words ring in her ears now as true as they did back then</span>
  </em>
  <span>: ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>There’s always a sunrise and always a sunset and it’s up to you to choose to be there for it,’ she says. ‘Put yourself in the way of beauty.’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she opens her eyes, everything glitters. The dew on the grass reflects the promise of a new day, refracting the light Yang had starved herself of for so long. A single tear rolls down her cheek into the crease of a mirthful smile, surely glittering like everything else in the meadow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She kneels down to make breakfast with a renewed vigor in her chest. The memories don’t sting and ache as much as they used to, now the pain is half buried in it’s own grave, making room for the joy Summer lived her life with to take focus.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lost in thought and bent over her cook pot, she doesn’t hear the rustling and sounds of distress coming from Blake’s tent. She only notices something’s wrong when a sudden weight slams into her side, spralling her on her back in the dirt. Sucking the air back into her lungs is difficult with Blake laying on her chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake presses her hands into the grass, lifting herself up enough to look down at Yang. Her eyes drift down to Blake’s lips, caught up in the thought of how soft they look; she doesn’t notice the blush growing on her own cheeks until it’s too late. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With her face on fire, she tries to play it cool, forcing a smirk that has no backing in confidence. “I missed you while we were sleeping too, Blake, but doesn’t this seem a little forward?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake flings herself off on Yang and into the grass next to her. “That is not—” She sighs, “I felt something crawling on my leg and I panicked.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang sits up with a laugh. “What’dya think, spider?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe. I didn’t exactly stick around to find out.” She stays sprawled out in the grass, seeming to be in no hurry to find out what exactly made a home inside her sleeping bag. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Looking around, Yang grabs the long neck cooking utensil that sits near her camp stove, wielding it like a bat as she stands. Blake rolls her eyes, but gets up to follow Yang to her own tent. Yang looks back at her before opening her tent, Blake nods in silent consent. Pulling back the sleeping bag reveals a small brown and black fuzzy caterpillar inching along the inner lining. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Son of a bitch,” Blake mutters from behind her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang can’t hold back the peel of laughter that rips from her lungs. “A caterpillar,” Yang balks. “You bolted out of your sleeping bag and tackled me over a </span>
  <em>
    <span>caterpillar.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t know!” Blake’s ears pitch back as she crosses her arms. “It could have been something dangerous!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Through her laughter Yang pulls off her bright orange bandana from around her neck and uses it to pick up the caterpillar. “Yeah, this little guy is terrifying.” On further inspection she recognizes it. “The worst he’ll do is make you a little itchy.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake narrows her eyes, stepping closer to look at the tiny offender. “How do you know that?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a woolly bear caterpillar. They are all over the place on Patch. Ruby and I adopted a few of them as kids. Well, not long term, we were never allowed to bring them into the house.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A hint of a smile touches Blake’s lips. “Was that rule made before or after you actually brought one into the house?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you assume it was me?” Yang scoffs. She drops herself back down in front of the camp stove, resting the bandana gently on her knee. The caterpillar squirms around but stays on the orange fabric while she checks on their breakfast. “It was Ruby, actually.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake chuckles, sitting in the opening of her tent and taking a moment to rearrange her sleeping bag. “And how long before she got caught?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She made it a full day. Our parents only caught on when she started bringing fistfuls of sticks and leaves inside to make it a little home for it in her room.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake crosses her arms on her knees, resting her chin against them while she watches Yang finish cooking breakfast. “Where were you in all this?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang’s hand stalls pouring Blake’s half of the oatmeal into a separate bowl. “...directly behind her with pockets full of dirt, but that’s not the point.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake pulls her hand in front of her lips to hide her laugh. Yang watches small crinkle lines form at the corners of her eyes and fights to be able to take her next breath. The way Blake’s ears pin back with the strength of the laughter warms Yang’s chest--a highlight to write in her journal later when Blake isn’t looking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The warmth lingers on as they finish up breakfast. Yang balances her bowl on one knee, keeping an eye on the other where the caterpillar still rests while she eats.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yang, are you going to carry that thing all day?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll find him a home when we pack up,” she laughs, setting aside her bowl and gingerly picking up the bandana. “but for now, I think I’ve made a new friend. What should we name him?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake rolls her eyes, “How about Ursa?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang looks at everything except for Blake. Unsure if she can keep the emotion from showing through on her face, she concentrates on keeping the caterpillar from falling off the bandana. She makes small adjustments to the fabric as she smooths out her voice to respond. “Ursa, huh? Like the constellation?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was the first thing that came to mind.” Blake shrugs, not knowing the significance of the name. “Bear was in the name so…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I like it. Summer told us the myth behind it once.” Her voice is a little solemn. Remembering is one thing, but talking about it is something else entirely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake sets her bowl to the side, picking up her cup of tea instead. “My parents and I used to stargaze all the time when we went camping. I learned a lot of constellations, but not many of the myths.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang pets the caterpillar with a finger, still not able to look Blake directly in the eye. “It’s about a mother and her child who are separated by a curse, but end up reunited in the stars.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds like a great story,” Blake says quietly. Yang sees the touch of concern in her eyes as she sips her tea again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The silence between them is a little awkward, but for once Yang can’t think of what to say. She doesn’t know how to navigate past the small lump that’s formed in her throat, so she lets it be. She slowly begins putting away the cookstove and cleaning out her bowl. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I never thought I’d see the day you got out of bed before me,” Blake half chuckles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang appreciates her attempt at breaking the tension, taking a deep breath to push down the lump in her throat. Lying about why feels worse than admitting the truth, even if it’s hard. “I used to watch the sunrise with my mom and Ruby. Figured it would be a good way to, uh...” she coughs, “feel a little closer to her, I guess.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake sets her tea down next to her and looks up at Yang. “Did she ever show you the teapot constellation?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” Yang smiles a little. “Is this your way of saying tea is superior because it’s written in the stars or something?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake chuckles, “Just because I don’t like your black tar coffee, doesn’t mean I think tea is superior.” The small smirk on her face softens into a gentle smile. “I asked because there is a star just above the spout of the teapot constellation called the Summer Rose star.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake has no reason to lie, but Yang can’t help but doubt it. That out of all the stars in the sky, one actually shared a name with her mother. “Really?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. It’s almost impossible to see without a telescope, but it’s there. I can show you where it is tonight if you want.” Blake fidgets a little. “Then you can see her, well not see her, but something close.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang bites back the emotion. The idea of being about to look at something and see the faintest shadow of Summer is overwhelming and so unbelievably freeing. Being close to her is all she can ask for, now that she’s ready to let herself be, “Thank you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake smiles even wider. The amber of her eyes reminds Yang of the sunrise, of new possibilities. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The large swaths of grass give way to rows and rows of half grown crops as far as they can see. The path becomes wider and seems more like a dirt road than a small trail meant for people, but the trail markers along the way tell them they’re still on the right path. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the day stretches on the farmland stays the backdrop to their walk. The worry that they won’t find a safe place to make camp for the night settles into the back of her mind. “Did your trail guide mention this area?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It did, but I don’t remember it being such a long part of the trail.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rounding a curve in the trail Yang sees a green pick up truck parked on the side of the trail, half pulled into the grass that lines the edge. As they get closer, she sees a woman walking down one of the rows of plants. She kneels down to inspect some of them as she goes. Eventually she looks up and sees the both of them, smiling and waving when they get close enough. She shoves a small trowel into her tool belt, taking a few steps closer. “Hello there.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang takes an eager step toward her. “Hi. Do you know if there’s a good spot to camp near the base of the mountain?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, sure there is, but that’s still pretty far away with how much daylight we have left.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” Yang glances down the trail. “Do you know any places closer?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There aren’t many. Most of the land between here and the mountain is private.” She rests her hands on her hips, a warm smile touching her eyes. “If you ladies are okay with it, you can stay at my place for the night. I take in hikers from time to time since I see them so often.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We wouldn’t want to impose,” Blake says, looking between the woman and the trail ahead of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s no problem at all. Happy to offer a warm shower and a meal to people that take on such a long journey.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang glances at Blake and shrugs, saying under her breath, “Could be nice.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It might be dangerous,” Blake mutters, shifting her weight between her feet and looking now only at Yang.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang’s eyes dart briefly back to the smiling woman in the field and back to Blake, turning to face her. Her voice is still light with disbelief. “Does she look dangerous to you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It may be a trick of the setting sun, but Yang could swear Blake’s eyes ignite with something she’s never seen before. Her tone is even, but the strain can’t be hidden. “People don’t have to look dangerous to be dangerous.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s right. They hadn’t run into any trouble from other people so far, but it could happen. On another glance she sees the woman still waiting patiently. Looking back at Blake, she’s also unchanged, rooted in place waiting for Yang to respond. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang adjusts her footing to put herself between the woman and Blake, hiding her from view. Resting her hand on Blake’s, she can feel her grip loosen on her own arm. “I’ll follow your lead, okay? We can keep walking and figure out a place to camp later, or even walk through the night. Whatever makes you feel safe.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tension in Blake’s body melts, her jaw goes slack, but only for a moment. Hesitation that had shifted to, what only Yang could describe as awe, was now shifting again into something that resembled determination. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake looks Yang in the eyes one more time, nods, ducks around her before Yang can register what she’s done. She whirls around to see Blake halfway to the woman already, her stride confident and sure. Yang takes a few quick steps to start to catch up, wondering if her words really made that much of an impression. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So do you offer strangers a place to stay without asking their names often?” She can hear the cheeky grin in Blake’s voice without seeing her face, any hint of trepidation gone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman laughs, taking a few steps forward and offering a hand out to Blake. “My name is Pyrrha and no, usually I at least ask for names before letting people through my door.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang takes the few last strides to catch up as Blake shakes Pyrrha’s hand. “I’m Blake and this is Yang.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang sticks out her own hand with what feels like the goofiest smile on her face. “Nice to meet you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can understand being worried about staying with a random stranger, but I’ll tell you what, at least let me give you a ride back to my place. If you decide you don’t want to come inside you can camp in the yard."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds reasonable,” Blake says, glancing over and Yang with warmth in her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve still got a little work to finish up, but hop up into the back of the truck and take a load off.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The truck bed isn’t particularly comfortable, but after walking all day it is still a relief. They both rest against their packs while the sun starts to sink lower in the sky. Yang takes longer and braver glances at Blake, each time feeling a small panic when Blake nearly catches her staring. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The drive back to Pyrrha’s house is short. The view from the front yard has Yang reaching for her camera. The small cabin is quaint, well maintained and cared for, but that isn’t what catches her attention. It’s the mountain that sits behind it in the distance. She takes a few pictures as they walk to the front door, capturing the well groomed yard and part of the cabin, but the focus is on the way the light from the setting sun carves into the mountain in the distance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The inside of the house is just as charming as the outside, warm and inviting with rustic wall hangings and decor scattered around each room, “The bathroom is the second door on the right, and the living room is straight ahead. I hope you’re both okay with sleeping on couches.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course.” Yang says, “Thank you for letting us stay.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not much, but please, make yourselves at home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sitting down for dinner after a warm shower is something she’d always taken for granted before the trail. Now it is something to be savored. The dining room table is small, just big enough to fit all three of them. Pyrrha places a large pot of soup in the middle of the table with a ladle, giving the freedom for multiple serving without having to ask. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang pulls her bow closer, waiting for it to cool, “So how long have you lived out here?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only a year or two. I moved out here when I had to stop hiking the trail. I wanted to stay close, help people on their own journey like so many people helped me on mine.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why’d you have to stop?” Blake asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ankle injury. Doctors said I’d only last a few more years with my activity level before I’d start losing mobility completely.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s terrible,” Yang mutters without thinking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay. I don’t regret any of it. I made friends on the trail I’ll remember for the rest of my life.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes find Blake’s in the same moment, quickly darling back to Pyrrha.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake asks, “When was your first hike?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pyrrha smiles. “Six years ago. I gave up a fancy corner office for foot blisters and the great outdoors. It was something I always wanted to do, but I was afraid.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What made you finally do it?” Yang asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Honestly, it was a leap of faith.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>— </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Long after the sun goes down, Yang lays awake on one of the couches in Pyrrha’s living room. She stares up at the ceiling, following the flickers of light coming from the small candle on the coffee table. Pyrrha’s words play on repeat in her mind.</span>
  <em>
    <span> A leap of faith.</span>
  </em>
  <span> That’s all it takes. So why can’t she do it? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake lays on the other couch a foot away, but it feels like a canyon splits the earth between them. Maybe her leap of faith can be done in smaller steps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Blake? Are you awake?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you think of what Pyrrha said?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know. I’m not sure I’d call my reasoning for walking the trail a leap of faith, but I can understand it being that way for some people.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang rolls the edge of the blanket between her fingers. “What was your reason?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The reason you’re walking the whole trail. We’ve never talked about it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake rolls over to face Yang. “I spent a really long time believing I was something I wasn’t. It took a lot to realize it wasn’t true, that I wasn’t that person, but this — walking an entire continent that I’d never been to before  — it’s my way of proving it, really proving it to myself. It wasn’t a leap of faith, but that doesn’t mean I need it any less.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What comes after this? For you I mean.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake lets out a long sigh, “With all the planning I did for this journey, I never thought about what comes after it…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room falls into silence. Yang’s mind wanders between her own reasons and Blake’s. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why walk all the way to Vale?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang sighs, “I’ve always liked adventure. That’s really all I intended for this trip to be, but it’s been so much more than that. I never thought it would be so…” She swallows the lump starting to grow in her throat. “...important.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake just looks at her patiently. Yang’s mind goes blank for a split second, struck by how beautiful Blake looks in the glow of candlelight.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It wasn’t a leap of faith by any means. Maybe even the opposite at first, but now, I—” She’s spent years not saying the most honest thoughts in her head and doing it now is still terrifying. “I want to walk as far as I can with you and I understand if that’s not something you want to do and if you want to go back to being alone I won’t—” She’s cut off by Blake gripping her hand, pulling her out of her own rambling in an instant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake runs her thumb across Yang’s knuckles, “Yang.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” she breathes, doesn’t dare say anything louder for fear of shattering the moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not leaving you behind.” Blake’s eyes flick toward the candle on the table and back, she takes a deep breath while Yang holds hers. “You’re important to me too.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Getting to the base of the mountain from Pyrrha’s house the next morning doesn’t take long and the first few days of their steep hike is uneventful, other than the lingering glances Blake keeps catching Yang giving her. Yang is always quick to look away, finding anything else to occupy her attention. It’s a shame she doesn’t get to see the smile that Blake can’t stop from growing every time she catches her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake is happy with the pace they are managing to keep on such a steep incline, that is, until they reach a massive rockslide that blocks the trail. Huge boulders and a slew of smaller rocks and debris tower above them, making it impossible to see the rest of the path. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, this is awesome!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yang. It’s a rockslide blocking the trail. How is that awesome?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She rubs her hands together. “Because now I don’t have to keep trying to get you to climb trees with me. This is going to be way more fun.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake rolls her eyes, somehow still realizing that Yang really can find the fun in anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang laces her fingers together and bends her knees slightly. “You first.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake rests one hand on the face of the rock to steady herself and puts her foot on Yang’s hands. With Yang giving her a boost, it’s easy to plant her hands on the top of the boulder and hoist her body up over it. Once settled, she reaches down over the edge to pull Yang up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Most of the climb is spent working in tandem, pulling each other up over the obstacles in their path. Each move is made easier by the help of the other. Near the top, the rocks are smaller and mixed with the dirt from the mountainside, making each step a little more treacherous. The pile shifts under Blake’s feet and Yang is quick to catch her, hands lingering on her waist and arm a little longer than it takes for Blake to get steady again. She gives Yang a small nod and thinks about a different kind of falling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The descent on the other side gets a little tricky when they realize the only way to get down safely is sliding through the smaller rocks and dirt that don’t offer a good enough foothold. But of course, Yang just grins and goes for it, making it to the large boulder near the bottom with little effort. Blake follows a moment later, hoping she can achieve the same grace Yang somehow managed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang doesn’t have to catch her this time, and while the satisfaction of pulling off the slide is enough to put a smile on her face, the thought of Yang’s hands being there to steady her again is something she can’t shake, and doesn’t want to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With the trail clear ahead of them, they dust as much dirt off their clothes as they can and move forward. There is still a long way to walk to get to the next town, even farther to the summit of the mountain and the steep incline makes for long days. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a few hours, the slope levels out a little. The trail opens up to scattered trees and grass. Blake doesn’t think much of it, too busy thinking about how many miles they will average today after being slowed down by the rockslide, until Yang darts off the trail into the trees and brush. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Blake come check this out!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yang, we don’t have time to—” She cuts herself off at the view, a small spring that sits tucked behind the trees, fed by a small waterfall of snow runoff that trickles down the rock face behind it. “Oh, wow.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right?!” Yang exclaims, gesturing to the pool she’s already standing next to in excitement, “We are due for a snack break, what’da say?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” she says, long and exaggerated, the fake exasperation nothing compared to the smile on her face, “but we can’t stay long.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang’s grin could rival anything in this moment — even the need for air — Blake realizes when she has to remember to breathe again. Blake looks away, unbuckles her pack, and rests it against a tree trunk, sitting up against it to give her feet time to rest. Yang drops hers straight to the ground off her back with haste. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The granola bar Blake pulls out of her pack hits the ground when she turns back and to see Yang with her shirt half lifted over her head, pants already unbuttoned. Blake quickly picks it up before Yang can get her shirt the rest of the way off, taking all the time she can to compose herself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> like water,” Blake says, busying herself with her food to keep from giving herself away. “More than most people.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang shrugs, folding her pants and placing them on her pack, “Well, I grew up on an island, I didn’t really have a choice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake smirks, mostly to keep her jaw from going slack at the sight of Yang delicately sliding into the spring. “Menagerie is an island too, but you don’t see me stripping every time we find something deeper than a puddle.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang reaches back for her shirt, almost abashed, “If the stripping is a problem I can—” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not—” Blake waves her off and Yang drops her hand back in the water, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. “It’s fine,” Blake says quietly, a small blush spreading across her cheeks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now it’s Yang’s turn to smirk. “You could join me if you wanted to. The water is nice.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake looks down at the dirt that still clings to her from the rockslide and back up to the self-satisfied smirk on Yang’s lips. This won’t be a leap of faith, just a test of the water to see how long Yang’s smirk really lasts. She stands, pulling her shirt up over her head without a word. She tosses it back at her pack before unbuttoning her pants, talking a quick glance Yang. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang’s eyes are glued to the water in front of her, face flushed. Blake silently chuckles to herself, too satisfied by how much effort Yang seems to be using to keep her face expressionless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The water is colder than she expects; Yang hadn’t reacted to the temperature at all when she got in, but Blake breathes deep to calm the urge to shiver against the chill. After a few minutes her muscles relax, either numb to the cold or just acclimated to it - she isn’t really sure. She wonders how Yang is able to stand it at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her look of concentration has eased, but she still doesn’t meet Blake’s eyes. Blake takes the moment to look a little longer than she’d usually dare, eyes tracing across strong muscular shoulders before she makes herself look away, not wanting to risk being caught staring. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake’s eyes drift closed, giving into the tranquility of the spring. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang flicks the top of the water and a few droplets hit Blake’s shoulders. She shudders against the cold droplets on her sun-warmed skin. “Can’t stay long, huh?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re right, we should get going.” Blake cracks one eye open to find Yang with a soft smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Five more minutes?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake shifts, rests one arm against the grass on the edge of the spring. She breathes deeper as the sun warms the drops of water left on her skin. “Five more minutes.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang quietly smiles down at the water as she lazily drags her hand across the surface. “So, have you always avoided the water?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” she chuckles, “pretty much the opposite. As soon as I could walk my dad decided I needed to learn how to surf, living on an island and all.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang smiles. “You know how to surf?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, it’s been a long time. I’m not sure how good I’d be now.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know the trail ends on the west side of Vytal island, but I’ve heard there are some good surfing beaches on the east coast. Ruby has a friend that goes up every summer.” She hesitates. “Might be worth looking into.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t count the minutes, but she’s out of the water before Yang. She goes back to leaning against her pack, letting the sun dry her off while she picks up her long forgotten snack. Yang isn’t far behind, getting out of the water to flop down flat on the grass. She keeps her eyes closed while she fishes in her food bag for something to eat before they get back on the trail. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s peaceful. The simplicity of it gives Blake pause; enjoying another person’s company so effortlessly is something she’d forgotten was possible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s still caught up in it by the time they are dressed and ready to get back on the trail. That, and the way the afternoon sun makes Yang’s eyes an even softer shade of lilac. Before she can overthink it, she leans in, presses her lips against Yang’s cheek. Blake can feel Yang go rigid, but her lips linger long enough to feel the tension melt away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She takes in the shock on Yang’s face with a small smirk. “Sometimes it really is a leap of faith,” she mutters, quickly turning on her heel and slowly walking up the trail. It doesn’t take long to hear the rushed footsteps crunching against the dirt, or the loud huff Yang lets out when she’s back at Blake’s side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She expects Yang to say something, but all she hears is the steady beat of her heart as she threads her fingers through Blake’s with a gentle squeeze.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Blake watches carefully over the next two weeks as the trees get thicker and the grassy outcroppings give way to uneven protrusions of slate rock. Yang sits closer when they take breaks and stop for the night. Casual touch becomes a new way she communicates. A gentle hand on the shoulder to ask if they can take a break, a brush of her knee when she hands Blake dinner, a lingering touch each time she hands Yang her morning coffee.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake can’t get enough. Her heart leaps every time in anticipation of something more, but each time it settles back in the same place — waiting. However impatient she feels, she can’t push. She knows she can’t pry open a locked heart--it has to break itself free. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Two days before they reach the next town, dark, heavy rain clouds take over every inch of the sky. They make camp on an elevated mound of dirt near the roots of a large patch of pine trees, the only shelter they’ll have aside from the thin material of their tents if the sky decides to open up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Getting warm enough to fall asleep that night is a challenge. Two pairs of socks and her only coat she brought are enough to let her sink into her sleeping bag. As she gets comfortable, she hears thunder rolling in the distance and the gentle scratch of pen on paper — the replacement to muffled music coming from Yang’s tent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before she gets a chance to open her eyes the next morning, she’s met with the sound of fat rain drops hitting the top of her tent, slowed and scattered slightly by the branches above. She lets out a heavy sigh, hoping the rain doesn’t slow them down with only a day left until they reach the next town. Thunder rumbles overhead, and with it comes an even heavier wave of rain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she zips open her tent, her hopes are washed downhill, left with a flooded campsite and mud as far as she can see. The hike uphill to town will be too dangerous with the ground slick and ready to shift under any step they take. She bites back a growl as she flops back into her tent. She hasn’t taken a zero while on-trail yet and she hates that today might be the first. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waiting for Yang to wake up feels like it takes longer than usual. It’s hard to tell with the sun buried behind thick clouds, the usual brightness of morning muffled with the dingy grey light that filters through. The ground directly outside of her tent is dry enough to use the camp stove without it getting covered in mud. She stays in her tent, leaning out just enough to set it up and brew herself a cup of tea. It does little to calm the frustration that pricks at her neck with each drop of rain that hits the puddles nearby. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually Yang’s head pops out of her tent, taking in the damage the storm has done overnight,  “I’d say good morning, but…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Morning,” Blake sighs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang gives her a small smile. “The trail looks pretty washed out. Are we risking it?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you think we could?” she asks, grasping at the last shred of hope to salvage the day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang looks out into the rain again, she tilts her head back and forth for a moment before looking at Blake. “Could? Probably. Should…? Well, I’ve already fallen out of a tree and we’ve both gotten this far with only some scratches. This would just tempt the gods.” Yang lets out a breath, a touch of sadness in her voice. “I’d say it’s better not to.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There isn’t much else to say. Blake’s shoulders slump, nodding heavily as she grips her tea a little tighter. Yang is right, and willing the rain to stop will not slow the downpour in front of them. Much to Blake’s dismay, they are stuck here and will be until the rain stops and the ground starts to dry. “Okay.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I’m going to sleep a little longer since we are stuck here. Wake me up if you need anything.” Yang ducks back into her tent and zips the door closed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake shudders against the cold and packs up her stove, closing up her tent and burrowing back into her sleeping bag. The damp chill of the morning air seeps into her skin, all the way down to bone. Even with the extra layers, she’s no match for it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hours pass slowly and the cold never leaves her, just makes a home under her skin in a way that makes her doubt she can ever be warm again. It’s miserable. Reading helps the time pass a little faster, but every few minutes she has to switch which hand holds the book open and which warms inside the sleeping bag. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By midday, the words bleed together on the page. Too frustrated to nap she lays in her tent, staring at the raindrops that track jagged paths down the outside. She listens for Yang and hears the gentle rustle of fabric but little else. There’s no way she’s still asleep, but if she really is awake this is the quietest Blake has ever heard her. She fidgets with the zipper on her jacket and the chilled metal just reminds her how stuck they are, how cold she is, how lonely she feels five feet away from someone else. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not just someone else, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yang</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake’s fingers go still against her jacket. She’d spent every day for so long side by side with Yang. She’d grown used to the lilt of her voice, the cadence of her steps, the comfort of a simple touch — and now it’s all she can think about. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even with the chill sitting on her skin, the tent is stifling. The walls are too close and there’s too much unfilled space at the same time. The lack of Yang’s presence is a hole at her side and a weight on her chest all at once. She bolts upright and rips open the zipper to the outside world in a huff. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” Blake doesn’t move, ice settles in her veins under the curious watch of unexpected eyes. “Hey.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Across from her Yang sits in the opening of her tent, arms resting on top of crossed legs. “Hey. You alright?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake grips at her arm, consumed by all the different ways she could answer such a simple question. Her eyes flick back and forth across the damp patch of dirt that separates their tents as her thoughts race back and forth between complete truth and something safe, something vague, deniable. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cold?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a little too wet for a fire.” Yang’s eyes roam across the small clearing, now filled with even larger puddles, fed by what feels like a never ending downpour. “I’ve got a little extra room if you wanna join me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang shuffles back into her tent as Blake crawls inside. She hadn’t noticed before but Yang’s tent is slightly larger than her own, leaving them plenty of room to sit cross legged facing each other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake picks at the edge of the book resting in her lap. “So what were you doing?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang rests back against one hand, brows furrowing together ever so slightly. “What do you mean?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were sitting with your tent open. Any reason?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was watching the rain.” She smiles, glancing at the door of the tent. Yang looks calm, more at peace than Blake can understand in the moment. The frustration of having to stay put still rests at the back of her mind, quieter now that she’s back in Yang’s company. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang must have sat watching the rain for a while because the tent is just as cold as the air outside. Yang looks completely unaffected by it, relaxed with her jacket unzipped, nearly slipping off one shoulder. Blake can’t fight the shiver that racks through her body, muscles tensing against the chill she hasn’t been able to shake all day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You said you’re cold right?”  Yang rests a leg out to each side, gesturing Blake to sit against her.  “Come here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The look on Yang’s face is earnest, but that doesn’t stop the blush from burning on Blake’s cheeks. It takes a moment before she can move, careful not to shift too eagerly into place. She sits in between her legs and leans back against Yang’s chest. Instantly she notices two things: the first being that Yang is extremely warm, and the second is that Yang’s heart is racing so hard and fast that Blake can both feel it and hear it easily pressed against her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang hesitantly wraps her arms around Blake’s waist and asks, “Is this okay?”’ The lack of confidence in Yang’s voice is reassuring, a reminder that this is something real. That the way Blake’s voice catching in her own throat means the same thing. Knowing words won’t come smoothly, Blake nods. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She opens her book, and at first glance the words blur together on the page. Too distracted by the rise and fall of Yang’s chest and the warmth of her arms at her waist, it takes effort to concentrate enough to read a full sentence and be able to move on to the next. She does manage to make it through a page, then another, then a full chapter. Yang’s warmth becomes the only reason she can concentrate at all with the rain still coming down in sheets outside the tent. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s not sure how much time passes, but when she looks up again the tent walls are lit by a small lantern Yang had pulled out at some point rather than the bit of sun that bled through the clouds. “What time is it?”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang shrugs. “Haven’t checked, but the sun went down about an hour ago, I think. It’s hard to tell with all the cloud cover, but it’s pretty dark out there.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake’s eyes wander back to the page, content to stay this way for as long as Yang lets her. Which isn’t much longer. Before she finishes the chapter she’s on, Yang rests her chin against Blake’s shoulder, pulling her away from the page completely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, whatcha reading?” Yang whispers, sending a tingle down Blake’s spine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a mystery.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, Blake, that’s why I’m asking.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake giggles, “No. It’s a mystery </span>
  <em>
    <span>novel</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang lets out a slow sigh that ends in a chuckle. The book all but falls from her grip. Blake bits her lip at the sound, suddenly very aware of just how warm Yang is pressed against her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hears thunder roll in the distance. The rain stays just as strong as it had been all day, no chance of letting up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Setting the book aside, she turns enough to see Yang’s face. Flush red cheeks and a touch of fear in her eyes, Yang casts them down quickly, tightening her grip around Blake’s waist. They’re so close that one small movement from either of them will change everything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On a shaky exhale Yang meets her eyes, “Can I—” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gods, yes.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang leans in, her kiss is soft and sweet, but full of yearning. Blake threads her fingers through Yang’s hair. It should be impossible to get any closer but somehow she does.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s on the edge of sleep wrapped in Yang’s arms. Warmth radiates in the sleeping bag they share, lulling her into a peaceful, thoughtless slumber. But before the darkness can fully pull her in she feels Yang shift slightly, her voice is strained and low. “Blake. Are you still awake?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her ears twitch against Yang’s breath. “Mmhm,” Blake hums, too groggy for real words</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is this?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She curls closer to Yang, too tired to filter the first thought that comes to mind. “It’s whatever you want it to be,” Blake whispers. With her forehead pressed to Yang’s neck she can feel the sudden catch of breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the silence, rain lightly patters against the top of the tent, a metronome that ticks away the moments before Yang starts to breathe again. She swallows thick, her arms tighten around Blake ever so slightly, as if she’s making sure she’s really there. “That’s dangerous.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake shifts away from Yang’s neck. Even in the dark Blake can clearly see the fear that swims in her eyes. She gently pushes a lock of Yang’s hair behind her ear, keeping her voice even and strong, more for Yang than herself.  “I’m not afraid.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One corner of Yang’s lips quirks up, not quite a smile, but something close enough as she stares down at Blake with watery eyes. She rests her hand over Blake’s fingers still pressed against her cheek. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what this is yet,” Blake admits. “All I do know is that I want to find out, preferably together, if that’s okay with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake feels a little stress lift from her shoulders as they walk into Tommim. The cobblestone streets are bustling, filled with people ducking in and out of shops and children running circles around their parents. The midday sun reflects off of the half melted snow that clings to the cottage roofs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They find the inn quickly, walking into the small office to escape the light chill in the air. Blake plants herself next to the fireplace on one wall while Yang makes her way to the counter. “We need a room for two nights, please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman behind the counter glances between the two of them. Blake offers a nervous wave, tucking her hands into her pockets quickly. She looks back at Yang. “One bed or two?” she asks in a chipper tone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake can’t see her face, but Yang’s entire body goes rigid. It takes her a few moments to answer the woman and when she does her voice is an octave higher than normal. “Two, please.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake muffles a laugh in her hand, turning to face the fireplace while Yang fills out the paperwork. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as the bell chimes behind them signalling the office door is closed, Yang starts to ramble. “Okay, so, I didn’t want to assume on the one bed thing and I—” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yang,” she interrupts, resting a hand against Yang’s cheek once she has her attention. “It’s okay. I appreciate it, but I would have been fine with either.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All of the worry falls away, replaced by a bright grin. “Okay.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their room doesn’t look much different than any other hotel rooms they’d stayed in along the way. Blake drops her pack at the foot of one of the beds and walks straight to the thermostat while Yang doesn’t hesitate to start the shower. The room is already decently warm, but Blake adjusts the temperature even higher, hoping the increase will help pull the chill out of her fingers while she waits for her turn in the shower.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After they’ve both showered and changed Yang sits on one of the beds, taking her time brushing out her hair, “I want to buy a long sleeve shirt for the rest of the hike up the mountain. Do you want to go shopping with me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you really only pack tank tops for this entire hike?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...No.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake chuckles. “I’ll go with you. I need a thicker jacket anyway.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s more room on the cobblestone streets when they make their way out to the main street again. With Yang’s fingers twined through hers, Blake lets her lead the way into each of the small shops. Some of them are specialty shops, seeming to deal more in high end crafts and souvenirs for tourists, and others are more like the general stores they’d frequented in other trail towns. She has to pull Yang out of the specialty candle shop when she falls into an uncontrollable fit of laughter over what an ‘angel wings’ scented candle could possibly smell like. She continues to speculate between small giggles in the next two shops. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They eventually find the closest thing to a clothing store the small town has. It’s just as small as most of the other shops, but has a few more racks of clothing than the rest, and a handful of changing rooms against the back wall. Yang walks up and down the racks, running her hands along the tops of the hangers, occasionally pulling something out and resting it over one arm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake finds a replacement jacket quickly. She makes her way to the register while Yang walks back to the changing rooms. Blake grabs a set of headphones from a small rack near the front counter, adding them to her purchase and stuffing them into her pocket before walking back to the changing rooms to wait for Yang. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She leans against the wall, flipping through a book about the town's history while Yang tries on her new shirts, each time having to come out of the small changing room to use the mirror set up directly outside of them. Blake’s eyes wander from the page each time, admiring each new shirt Yang tries on. On the last one she gets bold, tracing the lines of Yang’s body slower, longer than before. Only feeling the heat burn all the way up to her ears when her eyes meet Yang’s in the mirror, neither of them look away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>— </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The amber glow of the street lamps washes across the ceiling, painting the room in a warm light. Blake sinks further into the bed keeping her eyes closed as Yang leaves lazy kisses across her skin. After shopping they lost track of time in each other, ordering room service to avoid putting on any more clothes than they had to. The trays lay empty on the table, tasted and forgotten for things more decadent. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang’s fingers brush over the scar on her hip, leaving only to return with gentle consideration. “Can I ask?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake runs her fingers through Yang’s hair, thinking about all the things she’s shared, about how some truths are rough against the skin no matter how long time has worn them down. “Do you remember our night at Pyrrha’s?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake rests her hand on top of Yang’s at her hip. “This was part of what made me realize I wasn’t that person I’d been convinced I was.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang’s brow furrows. “How…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was with someone...” She sighs. “We got together when I was young. He was charming at first and it took until the end of it to finally see who he really was, who I’d become.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang’s fingers flex over the scar, “But…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He didn’t like the idea of me leaving, of not being his to control anymore.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The memories leave a dull ache in her chest, despite the distance from them, “I let him take so many things. I didn’t even realize I was giving myself away, he was always so persuasive...” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Blake, you aren’t responsible for the people that steal from you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She takes a breath, pushing back the emotion that builds in her throat, “That’s why this trip is so important to me. Everything has been my choice.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake shifts closer, holding Yang just a little tighter than before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Halfway to the peak, the trail cuts out to a cliff outcropping that lets them see the valley to the west. Across a vast expanse of green sits another smaller mountain that stands out against the glistening ocean behind it. Yang can’t stop herself from reaching for her camera.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Between the shutter clicks of her lens she can feel Blake’s eyes on her. Trying her best to concentrate, she keeps her eye in the viewfinder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake eventually says, “How do you know what will make a good picture?” Tilting her head, she adds, “I mean this view is obviously gorgeous, but back in the desert, it all looked the same.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang chuckles, “It’s about the beauty of the little details, I guess, but most of what makes a good picture is how you frame it.” Looking back she sees Blake’s brow furrowed in concentration, looking past Yang at the view of the valley. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She takes a few steps, placing herself to the side behind Blake and holding the camera in front of them both. “See?” She lifts the camera up so they can both look at the screen on the back. “You only have so much room in the shot, so you have to choose what makes up the edges of the frame, what pieces are worth keeping and what pieces are better off being cut out.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She snaps a picture of the valley in front of them, but cuts out half of the mountain to capture the clouds that float to the right of the peak. “It’s also about lighting,” she says low with a small smirk as Blake leans back into her chest, taking a moment before she can focus on the camera in her hands again. “You can’t have a good picture without shadows. They lend perspective and give the image depth. If all you have is light the picture won’t look real,” she explains as she presses the shutter button halfway down, holding the lens open to increase the exposure before it finally clicks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The image that shows up on the screen looks overexposed and flat; the valley is completely washed out in favor of the clouds and the sky above it. Yang stares at the image, her own words sinking into her skin like the cold chill of mountain air. Framing a good picture is the same as making a life you can love, focusing on the things that matter and letting go of the things you can’t fit in the frame. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The screen goes black from inactivity and she sees Blake’s reflection framed on the glass. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No more pictures?” Blake asks with a smirk, still pressed against Yang’s chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A few more.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang rests her chin against Blake’s shoulder and snaps a few more photos. “You know, there’s something missing from these.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flipping the camera around as quickly as she can, she snaps a series of pictures of the two of them. Blake giggles, but doesn’t bolt out of the frame. After a few more clicks, she turns and kisses Yang on the cheek. Yang makes sure to get a picture before Blake pulls away to smile at the lens again. Blake turns and wraps her arms around her, pressing her cold nose into Yang’s neck, nearly making her drop the camera. Her laugh is so light Yang feels like she’s floating. With Blake wrapped around her, she takes a few more pictures of the Valley and one more of them before clipping the camera back to her pack, content to hold her close for as long as she can. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Blake is thankful for her thicker jacket as they reach the peak of the mountain; the air stings against her face as she burrows further into the hood. The layer of snow on the trail has them moving a little slower than normal. From here, they can see the rest of the mountain range to the east. Cloud cover lays everything shorter than the peaks. Yang pulls her camera off her pack and stops, taking a few pictures before she takes a moment to just look at the view. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow.” Yang’s breath clouds the air in front of her. “She always said we had to put ourselves in the way of beauty.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s beautiful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang steps close, looking only at Blake with a small smile. “Yeah, it is.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When her gaze doesn’t shift away Blake realizes she isn’t talking about the view anymore. The burning in her cheeks is actually a small relief from the sting of the cold air. Yang chuckles and bumps her shoulder into Blake’s before she starts walking again.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake’s feet slip the slightest bit and her heart races as she steadies herself. “If you make me fall in this snow I’ll never forgive you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait,” Yang says with a grin. “Have you never been in the snow before?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake takes a step forward to dismiss the question, but when the snow shifts under her feet she gives herself away with a graceless flail to keep her balance. “Menagerie is a tropical island and I always avoided it when I lived in Mistral.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang holds out her hand. “Here, I won’t let you fall. Trust me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake grips her hand, confused at how easy it seems to be for her to keep her balance on the snow that’s been packed down by the feet of other hikers. “Did Patch get a lot of snow?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang kicks at a chunk of snow as they walk, spraying small flurries into the air. “Yeah. When I was nine we had a terrible winter. The snow was deep and really wet. One morning Ruby ran out without her snowsuit on, no shoes, just pajamas and a beanie. Summer ran out after her. She didn’t take the time to put on shoes either.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The trail starts to slope downhill and Blake grips her hand a little tighter.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Told our dad that she was just going to bring Ruby in, but we found them an hour later in an igloo they’d built at the far corner of the back yard. They said it was to keep warm,” she chuckles. “Like making an igloo made so much more sense than coming back to the house for real clothes and shoes.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A whole igloo?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nods, “Yup. They even made little benches to sit on inside. After that they came in and got dressed. Dad made hot chocolate and put it in a thermos. We spent the rest of the day inside that igloo.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang looks more at ease than she ever has, this memory a much different kind of recollection than all the others have been. It doesn’t bear down on her shoulders; rather, it lifts her to her real height. The happiness that touches her eyes glows brighter than the sun against the snow, and it takes Blake’s breath away. “I think she’d love to see you like this.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang’s feet still in the snow. “Like what?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Happy.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The trek down the mountain is a lot faster than the ascent was. After a few days, the snow starts to fade from view and the trees get thicker and thicker. By the end of the next week, they have reached flat land again, passed through another small trail town, and are still in the thick of the trees. This forest is different from the one on the other side of the mountain. The smell of pine is strong in Blake’s nose and the sap on the trees meant no more climbing and even more crackly fires. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sitting across from each other one morning as the sun rises, Blake says, “What if we took a zero today?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang drops her spoon into her cook pot in shock, jaw a little slack as she stares at Blake. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to take a zero today?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang’s smile is wide, amused by the finality of a single word. “Okay. Let’s do it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Most of the morning is filled with upkeep they’d avoided until now. Blake reorganizes her pack, laying out its entire contents with care. She takes her time rinsing and washing her extra clothes, leaving them out on a large rock to dry in the sun. Yang repacks her food bag so the best snacks are on the top and decides to write more about their hike in her journal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake rests her head against Yang’s shoulder during lunch, eating lazily while looking at all the photos Yang had taken since they started. They both watch the pictures flick across the preview window, stopping occasionally on the ones Blake doesn’t recognize. Yang takes the time between bites to explain where each was taken, often able to recall what Blake had been doing during the moment as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both stop when Yang flicks to the first photo of the two of them. Blake reaches up and leaves a lingering kiss on Yang’s cheek, only for Yang to turn and give her a chaste kiss on the lips. Yang doesn’t stop smiling for the rest of their meal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Midday is too warm to do anything, so they take a long nap, wrapped up in each others’ arms under the shade of a large tree surrounded by a bed of wildflowers. They stay lazily tangled together long after they wake, content to breathe each other in and listen to the birdsong that fills the air around them. Yang presses a kiss to her forehead, burying her face in Blake’s hair with a long, deep, blissful sigh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t plan any zeros, any reason we’re taking one today?” Yang mumbles against her temple. Yang’s lips are warm and soft against her skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake thinks back to the desert, back to sunflower pops and the map she hasn’t looked at in weeks. Back to a night that feels so far in the past, a night she’ll never forget with a person she can’t imagine never having met. With a small smirk, she says, “Sometimes you just do things because you enjoy them.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They start making camp earlier in the day as they get closer to Vale. There’s always a convenient excuse to stop that neither of them challenge. Blake thinks she isn’t the only one that wants to draw out their time together, watching Yang give in to any reason to stop, even when it would be easy for them to keep going. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Today they don’t need an excuse--not one they have to say out loud at least. The trees thinning out means the trail exit for Vale is a days hike away and saying it will only make it happen faster. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake’s tent stays in her pack; they’ve been sharing Yang’s since leaving Tommim and there’s no point in changing that until she has to. With everything set up, they spend the afternoon at the river close by. It’s deep and calm enough in some spots to sit and relax, so they do. The sun warms their skin as they lean against a large rock. The slight chill of the water gives Blake an excuse to get closer to Yang, though she really doesn’t needs one anymore. She nearly falls asleep tucked against her, mind as far from thinking about what pace they are keeping as it possibly can be. She doesn’t think about the end of the trail, about how many days are left, or how much longer it will take with all of their early days. It can wait. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After dinner, they sit in front of a small fire, talking about everything except what tomorrow will bring. The trees are far enough apart now that only a few branches obscure their view of the sky. Blake looks up at the blanket of stars, picking out each constellation she remembers as her eyes track across the sky. She glances at Yang to find her doing the same thing, a small smile on her face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The night air nips at her nose. Burying her hands deeper into her pockets, her hand brushes against the pack of headphones she’d bought in Tommim. She pulls the box out of her pocket, resting it on top of Yang’s knee. “I know it’s been a while since your other ones broke, but I figured you might want some again.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you.” She takes them in her hand, turning the packaging over with thought, “I’ll be glad to have them, but I don’t think I’ll need them like I used to.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake can’t help but smile. They’ve both grown so much since meeting in the desert. Yang chuckles when she looks at her again, leaning to give her a quick kiss before looking back down at the headphones. Within seconds a grin stretches across her face and her eyes shoot back up to Blake’s. “Dance with me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She raises an eyebrow. “In the middle of the woods?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang starts to stand. “Absolutely in the middle of the woods. Is there a better place?” She holds her hand out to Blake. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake takes it, letting Yang hoist her up off the ground. “Pick a song at least, otherwise I’m going to be thinking about how silly it is to dance to no music the whole time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you are a melody I’d keep rhythm to for the rest of my life.” A small smile spreads across Yang’s face. It would sound like a line coming from anyone else, but Yang’s voice is sweet and genuine. She presses one of the headphones into her ear, holding the other out for Blake. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake rolls her eyes, but doesn’t hold back the grin or the giggle that Yang always has no trouble pulling out of her. Stepping closer, she presses the headphone into her ear. “You’re really proud of that one aren’t you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang wraps her arm around Blake’s waist, taking her other hand and pressing it against her chest as she leads them in swaying to the music, a smile so wide it might be stuck. “I might be.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t recognize the song, but it’s pleasant, slow. Soothing acoustic guitar and faint piano fill her ears as they move. They take lazy steps in a tight circle, never getting too close to the fire. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang’s smile is soft and her eyes glow in the flickering campfire light, a sea of lilac Blake is happy to drown in. If the song has lyrics she doesn’t hear a single word of them, completely lost in the shadows that dance across Yang’s face, taking time to memorize every curve, peak, valley and line. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The idea of leaving the trail crosses her mind. It’s more and more tempting with each pitch pop from the fire. As their feet shift over dead leaves she starts to see it. A life in Vale. A future. A place to call home. She sees it reflected back in Yang’s eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The song ends, but they don’t stop dancing. They hold each other closer as the night gets colder. Dancing turns into gently swaying in place. She doesn’t mention the hitch in Yang’s breathing, how uneven it gets with silent tears and Yang doesn’t bring up how often Blake clears her throat, pushing back the tears with more effort every time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The stars shine bright above them. She wishes on every single one, wishes for more time, wishes for Yang to come with her, wishes they could stay here long after the fire goes out. But she knows she won’t get any of them, knows she has to make her own luck and that the luckiest thing to ever happen to her was finding Yang. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tucked into their sleeping bags together they still don’t say a word about what will happen tomorrow. Blake knows if she says anything tonight, she’ll break. Her nerves are too close to the surface, too easy to get swept away in it all. Yang holds her close and Blake falls asleep to the sound of Yang’s heartbeat one last time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By early afternoon the next day they reach the fork that splits the trail into each of their paths. One leading to Vale, visible in the distance much like Vacuo had been when she started the trail. The other leading up to Vytal island, to the end of the trail. Nothing more than a shadow on the horizon line. Blake’s journey is far from over. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their feet stall without a word, planted in the dirt — not quite ready to rip out the roots that have twined them together. Blake stares at the sign that designates their paths, quietly listening to the effort Yang puts into keeping her breathing as even as she can. She can’t find the words to prop her up with, the ones that will take away the pain blooming in her chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The late summer sun beats down on them, a reminder of the early days of the desert, of all the days they’ve spent together. She knew when she started this journey that she wouldn’t be the same person by the end, that finding the pieces of herself she used to love wouldn’t be the only thing she found. She knew she’d find strength in the trail, but she didn’t account for finding it in Yang, too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake turns to face her, linking their hands together, she finally looks into Yang’s eyes. Her strength is on full display, only the tiniest hint of sadness in her eyes, the slightest tremble at the corner of her lips. Blake squeezes her hands. “Ruby is expecting you in a few days, right?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah...” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Watching Yang get lost in thought makes Blake squirm a little. She says the first thing that comes to mind. “I won’t have cell reception for most of the rest of the hike, but will you text me when you get there?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang lets out a small watery laugh, smiling through it. “All this time and </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> is how you ask for my number?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake can’t help but laugh with her, only now realizing they hadn’t had reason to exchange numbers until now. She pulls out her phone and holds it out to Yang with a raised brow. “Is that a no?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang swipes the phone from her hand, pulling out her own and handing it over to Blake. She swipes open the lock screen and pauses when she sees the background on Yang’s phone, a beautiful picture of both of their tents silhouetted against the sunrise. A small tear pricks at the corner of her eye as she types in her contact. Their tents will not see another sunrise together and as silly and small as it feels, she already misses it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you for walking with me,” Yang says with an unsure smile when she tucks her phone back into her pocket. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was my pleasure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Blake, I—” Yang cuts herself off, her eyes shimmer with the words she can’t say. She sighs, settling for something else. “Stay safe, okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will.” Blake wraps her arms around her, not quite ready to let go yet. “Thank you for not asking me to stay.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yang grips her and Blake wonders if she crossed a line, “I know what the end of the trail means to you. I can’t—” Her eyes pinch shut, mouth forming a rigid line, swallowing the words before they can escape. She takes a deep breath, sadness pulling down the corners of her lips. “You have to go.”   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do.” Blake’s voice waivers, biting back the emotion that is so ready to break free. Her breath shakes, “You asked me what this was once, and I—” She leans back, resting a hand against Yang’s cheek. “It’s something I don’t want to end today. I can’t go with you right now, but I won’t be far behind, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.” Hope shines in Yang’s eyes, but the quiver in her lip gives away the sorrow tucked behind it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blake takes the necklace from her own neck, pressing the ring and chain it into Yang’s palm, closing Yang’s fingers over it. “I promise I’ll come back,” she says and it breaks her own heart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tears finally spring from Yang’s eyes, but the certainty of her voice has never been so strong. “I know you will.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Waking up without Yang is difficult; she’s gotten used to the company but it's more than that. She starts to pick up her own rhythm again in a week or so. She still gets up at sunrise, but it means more now with shared memories, and the sun becomes synonymous with Yang. She takes care to greet her every morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Each day she walks alone, going back and forth between thoughts of Yang and the decisions that brought her to this point. She contemplates turning back more than once, but by the end of the second week she knows she can’t. Yang wouldn’t want her to anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking across the bridge to Vytal island means she’s a week from the end of the trail, seven days away from the moment she’s dreamt about for more than a year. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking up to the trail terminus feels surreal. It’s at the top of an incline so she can see the wooden post and the plaque that shines on top of it for more than an hour. It’s a beacon. Her journey started with a test of will and a long incline, it’s only fitting that it ends the same way, but this time she can see the end. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she reaches the top she rests her hand on the plaque, runs her fingers over the etchings she reads: </span>
</p><p>
  <span>NORTHERN TERMINUS </span>
</p><p>
  <span>REMNANT CROSS-CONTINENTAL TRAIL</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The metal is weather worn and the wooden post it’s riveted too even more so. It has had to withstand the test of time and the elements, countless years atop this hill, steadfast to greet every hiker just the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The view from the top of the hill is breathtaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her first thought is that she wishes Yang could take a picture of it. She settles for her own phone camera and a quick selfie with the plaque and the ocean in frame. Maybe she’ll send it to Yang when she has cell service again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She goes to stand at the edge, rests her arms against the wooden outlook railing. The breeze is salty and she can hear the waves crashing into the cliff wall below her. She thinks about why she’s here, what she’s ready to move on from. She thinks about the cross she carried an entire continent to toss over this very ledge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She breathes it all in, lets her past have it’s final moment and on exhale let’s it drift out into the wind and over the edge. It’s peaceful. Even with her pack on she feels weightless, but more grounded than she’s ever been. Her footing has never been more sure. She can trust it all again. She’s done what she’d set out to do and it’s the best feeling in the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t know how long she stands there. Totally alone and content. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She walks back to the log book station that sits near the trail marker, opens the lid and picks up the pen with certainty and writes, </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If your nerve deny you</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Go beyond your nerve</span>
  </em>
</p>
<ul>
<li><span>Emily Dickinson and Blake Belladonna</span></li>
</ul><p>
  <span>Walking back down the hill, there’s almost a skip to her step. She reaches into her pocket and finds the bottle cap from the sunflower pop Yang had given her all those months ago in the desert. She turns it between her fingers and smiles. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang lays on the couch at Ruby’s house in her pjs, fiddling with the ring in her fingers while the chain rests against her neck. Hanging out in her new room isn’t much fun since most of her stuff is still in boxes. She’d sold all the large furniture she had in Vacuo rather than shipping it ahead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her head hangs off the cushion while she sits upside down, her hair splayed out, the ends pooling on the rug in front of the couch. She keeps twirling the ring between her fingers, thinking about Blake and trying not to think about how long it will take her to show up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ruby plops down next to her. “So, what are your plans for today?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haven’t made any yet,” she replies, waving her off. “I’ll think about it once I have some coffee.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ruby says Weiss is going to be at the library studying for the bar exam all day. Then she lights up, says she has an idea, and tells Yang to get dressed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bolts out of the room just as fast as she’d entered, yelling behind her, “I’ll make coffee, just get ready!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grumbles and goes to get dressed, laughing fondly at Ruby’s ability to bubble with optimism at the drop of a hat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An hour later, she’s got her second cup of coffee in a thermos and she’s sliding into the passenger seat of Ruby’s car. “I’m surprised you still have this old thing running.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I do. I’ll always take care of Crescent Rose.” Ruby runs her hand across the dash with the care most people would show a beloved family pet or a small child. “Uncle Qrow and I worked our asses off to get this baby restored and back to stock.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The fact that he let you near anything remotely flammable is the real miracle.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ruby sticks her tongue out, “Actually, him teaching me how to be a real mechanic means I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>less </span>
  </em>
  <span>likely to make things combust.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang reminisces about the last time she’d been in Vale years ago to drop Ruby off for her first semester of college. Tai was probably around, or maybe he was busy with work. How Ruby had pressed her face against the window in excitement to get a better look at all the shops and huge skyscrapers and architecture. She hadn’t been paying enough attention to really point out if anything had changed since she’d last been here, but it all feels new. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ruby pulls into a parking spot in front of a building with a garish awning over the front entrance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang looks at the front windows full of odd combinations of furniture and knick knacks. She turns back to Ruby. “Really, Ruby?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What exactly is an emporium?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s like a department store and the best thrift shop in town combined!” she says. “It’s really cool, trust me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughs at Ruby’s excitement. “I trust you, but why are we here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What kind of a sister would I be if I let you sleep on an air mattress for more than a week? You need furniture.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“From an antique store?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not an antique store. If you don’t like anything here we can go to IKEA. You can buy all the build your own furniture you want. I’ll even let you use my good allen wrenches I keep in the garage.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ruby’s description is exactly what the inside of the store looks like. There’s an entire loft of knick knacks and the basement is full of antique furniture, while the main floor looks like every department store she’d ever been in, with rows and rows of home goods. She meanders through the aisles of beds and bed frames. This seems as good a place as any to find something and she really does trust Ruby’s judgement. She wonders what Blake would like, if she’d have a preference at all. A simple wooden bed frame would be foundation enough for them to build on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She finds a dresser in the basement antiques section that reminds her of Blake. She buys it and the bed with a promise to pick them both up tomorrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ruby finds some knick knack and buys it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking out, Ruby says, “Told you so,” and Yang snags the knick knack out of her hand and takes off for the car with it held high above her head. Ruby yells, but trusts her enough not to run after Yang to grab it back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the furniture arrives, it makes her room feel more permanent, more like home, even if there are still pieces missing. She lines up a few photography gigs and uses half her savings to buy a new motorcycle. While she waits for the paperwork to be finalized, she browses helmets and picks out her own quickly, spending the rest of the time picking out a second one for Blake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She spends most nights curled on the couch watching tv or playing cards with Ruby. During the natural lulls in conversation, she idly turns the ring between her fingers. Sometimes it makes her think of Blake, still out in the wilderness somewhere. Other times, it makes her think of where they’d been. Sleepless nights on the trail, all the meals they ate too fast on their stops in trail towns, the way Blake looked at her when she thought Yang couldn’t see. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A month passes and the melancholy sets in. She spends the week checking her phone so often Ruby asks her why. Yang quietly says that the hike from Vale to the northern terminus of the trail takes three weeks. Ruby nods, leans into her shoulder and says ‘she’ll come back.’ as if she’d already seen it happen. Yang was certain she would too, but that doesn’t make the waiting any easier. Yang had told her most of the stories from her months on the trail already, sparing her sister of the unnecessary details of course. But Ruby says it like she’s known Blake all her life. With a half smile Yang kisses the top of her head and says ‘thanks rubes’. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Blake’s fingers tap methodically against her knee, glancing up at the route map above the driver’s head with each passing street light. The skyscrapers of the inner city fade into clusters of shops, side streets packed with small houses and the occasional apartment building. When she hears the hiss of the doors opening she can’t get up fast enough, throwing her pack over one shoulder and adjusting the second strap as she gets to the front of the bus. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stepping out onto the sidewalk, the wind whips the freshly cut ends of her hair in front of her eyes. She pushes it behind her ears, knowing it won’t stay there for long. The address Yang put into her phone is a twenty minute walk away according to the GPS. She scoffs. She’d walked across an entire continent, what’s another twenty minutes to get back to Yang? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s nothing and everything at the same time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The neighborhood is quiet. Most of the homes look like they’ve been occupied by the same families for decades, the traces of tradition scattered across refurbished porch steps. She walks past a small community garden nestled between two duplexes, nature flourishing in the midst of a sea of concrete. The middle aged woman tending to her plot waves as Blake walks past, hands caked with fresh soil. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang’s house falls in with all the rest, nothing glaringly different from the homes on either side. She rests her pack against the railing, double checking the address on her phone with the one to the right of the door frame three times before she knocks. Doubt creeps in while she waits, but it doesn’t take long before it’s pushed back by the muffled drumming of rushed footsteps. Her ears perk up when she hears the lock turn from the other side of the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the door pulled open, Yang stands frozen in the doorway, staring, jaw slack and lips parted for words that don’t come. Blake waits, watching the emotions play across Yang’s face as she takes in the moment. As the silence stretches on a blush creeps up Blake’s cheeks, and a shy smile breaks through while Yang continues to stare. “Surprise?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All at once Yang bolts forward, wrapping her arms around Blake’s waist in a crushing hug and lifting her off the ground. Blake arms curl around her shoulders, content to be weightless in Yang’s embrace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” Yang says with her face pressed against her neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tickle from the vibration of her voice makes Blake giggle. “Hi.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her feet find the wooden slats of the porch again when Yang relaxes her grip, keeping one arm firmly around her waist while moving the other hand to gently press against Blake’s cheek. She gets caught up staring again, this time smiling down at her. Blake can’t think of anything to say, equally as caught up in taking in all the tiny details of Yang’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You cut your hair,” she says, awe softening her voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it bad?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The flush that blooms on Yang’s cheeks takes away any doubt Blake had. She closes her eyes for a moment as Yang runs her fingers through it, twining some around her fingers. “It’s good.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last of the tension in her muscles starts to fade, put there by the long journey back to Vale, now melting away against Yang’s soothing touch. Blake takes a deep breath and opens her eyes again. The sun glints off of the ring hanging from Yang’s neck and it makes Blake’s smile grow even wider. She gently presses her fingers to the metal, warm from sitting against Yang’s skin. She feels the breath Yang lets out, the steady beat of her heart underneath. Yang’s fingers glide across the back of Blake’s hand. “Did you make it to the end?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Did you find what you were looking for? Will you go looking for it again if you didn’t?</span>
  </em>
  <span> The unspoken questions feel so heavy on her mind even though she knows Yang will never ask them. It feels good to say she’ll never have to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did,” she smiles. “I even took a picture.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang’s face lights up. “Really?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blake nods, reaching into her pocket and pulling up the picture on her phone. It’s nothing compared to the ones Yang took while she was on the trail, but the way she runs her fingers over the edge of the phone in admiration makes it seem like she’s looking at a masterpiece. “Beautiful,” she breathes. “We should add it to the collection.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang takes a step back, threading their fingers together and gently pulling Blake toward the door. “Here, let me show you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s so much to take in on the way to Yang’s room, but she doesn’t see much of it. She’s caught up in the way their fingers feel twined together and the excitement that leads each of Yang’s steps. The only thing that really sinks in as they pass between rooms is how much the house feels like a home, lived in and decorated to reflect the people that occupy the space.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang’s room is much more sparse than the rest of the house. Unpacked boxes still sit in the corner, and the walls are mostly bare. The exception is the wall above her dresser, which is filled with framed photographs of their hike, all in varying sizes, carefully laid out to tell a story that only she and Blake will fully understand at first glance. It’s a story of natural beauty and the growth of love in still images, and it takes her breath away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yang,” she breathes out, eyes still glued to the frames on the wall. </span>
  <span></span><br/>
<span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I know. I got a little carried away and —” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she interrupts, turning to face her, “it’s perfect.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile on Yang’s face speaks to a quiet kind of pride, the small satisfaction of knowing she’d taken someone's breath away. It’s not boisterous, doesn’t stretch her cheeks into a grin that she so often likes to wear. Only curls the edges of her lips, warms the lilac of her eyes with a flicker of love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blake sets her pack against the wall, shedding the last weight of a journey to take the first step into a new one. “Mind if I stay here for a while?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can stay as long as you want.” Yang’s cheeks flush as her eyes dart to the dresser and back. “I didn’t want to assume that you’d live here, but I made the space for you in case you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blake sees the life she wants to live in Yang’s eyes again, in the gentle curl of her lips. The offer Yang makes is so simple, but it’s a kind of love that Blake has never known. The kind that leaves room to grow. She takes the few steps to close the gap between them, wrapping her arms around Yang’s neck, finally able to say the words, “I love you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang’s arms wrap around her waist with a gentle squeeze. She rests her forehead against Blake’s, breathing out the words as if they’d lived on her tongue for more than one lifetime. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, too.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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